Out After Dusk
by Alfsigesey
Summary: Beth's stupid-ass friends are determined to make her eighteenth birthday memorable. Their antics leave her stranded in the bad part of an unfamiliar town, currently patrolled by Officer Shane Walsh. Threatened by criminals and cops alike, she's forced to hunker-down with a group of roughs, including a certain ornery redneck. (No ZA AU Bethyl)
1. Never Have I Ever

_Got anything fun planned tonight? You should enjoy your last hours as a kid._

Beth must have read Maggie's text a dozen times before she finally tried to answer it. It wasn't a trick question or anything, but all the same...

_Yes?_

She erased her response without sending it and sighed, then dialed Maggie.

Maggie must have had a cold when she recorded her voicemail, _"Hey, sorry I didn't pick up—don't leave a message, I'm not gonna listen to that. Just hang-up and text me. See ya."_

Beth dropped the phone onto her bed and stared at it, contemplating whether or not she'd heed Maggie's instructions. Out the open window, she could hear Otis playing his guitar on the porch below. He paused a moment as voices interrupted him, her mother and Patricia.

_Hey Maggie, I'm not—_

What wasn't she? She wasn't feeling so hot these days. _I'm not sure about anything._ She erased the text.

_I just wanna talk— _Beth backspaced over these words as quickly as they appeared on the screen.

_Call me whenever—_ but she deleted the message and gave up. "Stupid," she said to herself under her breath. "You're just being stupid." She had nothing to complain about. _My life is perfect_, she thought to herself as a grey cloud ambled over the sun, casting the room into a gloomy state that didn't suit the flowery décor.

Out the open window she caught sight of Leon's murdered-out black Accord tearing the dust up from the road. The car came to rough stop right in front of her farmhouse and everyone poured out, Leon and Luke from the front seats, and Karen and Minnie from the back. Even from this distance, she could tell that the girls were wearing heavy make-up. With a glance at the mirror in the bathroom, she realized that she still hadn't put any make-up on yet. She'd meant to. She'd also meant to change, but she was still in the jeans and pink, sleeveless blouse that she'd worn during her ride that afternoon. She smelled like horse.

Would they really be all that disappointed if she told them she wasn't feeling up to it? Her mom and dad would probably see right through her faking sick, but they wouldn't give her away. It was her birthday in a few hours—well, her birthday and her friend Minnie's. They decided to celebrate together, months earlier. Still, she ought to be able to do what she wanted on her birthday.

But what she wanted to do was nothing, and she had to admit that there was something pretty troubling and sad about that.

Her friends promised to make her go out and live life. They hadn't steered her _very_ wrong yet.

She forced herself onto her feet, pulled her boots on and checking the mirror one more time. She didn't look like she was going to a concert. She looked like she worked on a farm and forgot to brush her hair on a regular basis. Then again, the concert would mean she'd just get sweaty and disheveled anyway.

As she was going down the stairs, her phone chirped at her from her pocket.

_Hey Beth, you called me?_

Maggie had been living in Atlanta for the last year. The distance wasn't too bad, but it was far enough that Beth looked forward to seeing her sister more than anything else, these days.

_You coming Sunday?_ After thinking about it, Beth decided that she wasn't sure she should bug Maggie with her imagined problems, especially not when Maggie probably had legitimate drama to deal with in her new Atlanta life.

Beth said a quick 'see ya' to her parents and Otis and Patricia, who told her to be safe. She purposefully didn't meet her father's eyes. Something about his face in the corner of her eye told her he already determined to disapprove of whatever her friends had planned that night.

"Hey Beth, you remember my cousin Leon, right?" Minnie hung off the side of the car-door, clearly anxious to get going.

"Hey," Beth smiled at Leon but he went in for the hug, which took her by surprise.

Leon looked like Minnie right around the eyes and mischievous smile, but he was a lot bigger than her. Beth hugged him back, feeling awkward.

With a roguish grin he gestured to the car, "You carriage, ma'am."

"This is his little brother Luke," said Karen with a peculiar smile on her face, the way she said it made Beth think there was some joke she wasn't in on.

She would never have used the word 'little' to describe Luke. He was built like a line-backer and wearing a Georgia Tech T-shirt.

"Cool, get on in, we'll let out."

The five of them piled into the car, out of habit, Beth watched her home disappear out the back window.

"That must be a real sweet place to live," Leon commented on the farm.

"You ever made sweet peach wine?"

"Uh, no," Beth admitted, "Lots of peaches though."

"Her daddy don't _abide_ alcohol," Karen explained, inspecting Beth's jeans with her fingers and a frown of disapproval. Both she and Minnie were wearing light, airy and revealing outfits, perfect for a concert.

"I respect that," said Leon with a nod and a glance at his brother that said otherwise.

Beth let the four of them talk while she watched her phone for Maggie's response. It took almost twenty minutes for her to reply.

_Yeah, I'm coming Sunday._

Beth breathed a sigh of relief. She'd been worried all week that something would happen to make Maggie miss her birthday dinner.

_Bringing anybody?_ She texted, she was curious to know how things were going with Maggie's boyfriend, Zach, but mostly she just wanted to keep talking with her as long as she could.

Maggie never texted her back to reply, which Beth took to mean that her sister didn't know whether or not her boyfriend was coming with her to meet the family. The car was loud and unruly. Beth tried to follow their conversations, but kept finding her mind drifting away.

She caught up, just in time to hear Leon say, "Alright, let's play us a game—If I can guess at what age you had your first puff on a joint, than each one of you has to admit that I'm a bona fide genius and the greatest human being you've ever known."

Juvenile, especially considering that Leon looked like he was probably about twenty-five, but Beth smiled to herself and said, "Alright, me first," quickly.

Leon peered at her through the rearview mirror, drawing his eyebrows in as he made a show of thinking, "I'm gonna say sixteen."

"Wrong. Still virgin!" Minnie blurted-out before Beth could say anything.

"No way—Minnie, where'd you find yourself a friend who don't smoke?" Luke turned around from the passenger seat to look at them.

"She don't do nothin' really. I mean _nothin'_."

"Yeah, I'm pretty boring," said Beth, suddenly uncomfortable.

"It's been like that ever since we was fifteen and we started playing never-have-I-ever with booze we swiped from mom's liquor cabinet. _We _partake—she just watches," Karen leaned over to kiss Beth on the cheek, leaving a smear of gloss that shimmered on the back of Beth's hand when she pulled it back.

"Three years later, and it's the same story… but she drives us home," said Minnie proudly, "She's responsible like that."

"Our own personal Designated Driver Barbie," Karen added.

"I've gotta be exempt from this game—you were _there_," said Luke.

"Alright, ya get a pass—Minnie, I'm gonna say fifteen was a pretty eventful year for ya."

Minnie frowned but it steadily pulled into a grin as she nodded, "Yeah—you could say it was—alright, I'll say it. You're a bona fide genius and the greatest person I've ever known, mostly 'cause you do sweet things like buy me and my friends concert tickets for my birthday."

"Yeah, I'm one generous guy, it's true."

Out the window, a road-sign caught her eye. "Uh—I think you turned off too early," Beth warned Leon. No one seemed the least bit concerned by what she'd said. In fact they all pointedly looked away.

"Truth is, we're makin' a little stop. There's someone Minnie's been asking me to introduce her to," Leon cleared his throat, his face going red as he smiled at her through the rear-view mirror. She caught a glimpse of the road out the back window. A couple of motorcycles were gaining on the Accord, as it wasn't going fast enough for their taste. Their engines rumbled angrily.

They had found their way to a fairly isolated neighborhood, fenced in naturally by a small woodland. "Who?" Beth asked.

Leon pulled over against the curb in front of a house before he answered, "Well… The name's Nick, and he's my dealer. One of 'em. The good one."

"Are ya kiddin' me?" Beth had never heard her own voice sound so toneless. Then again, she could barely hear herself over the motorcycles. The bikes pulled off on the curb and their engines shut off, leaving a windy silence.

She met Leon's eyes in the rearview and grit her teeth as he grinned, clearly amused by her shock. _Why am I even surprise?_

"It's just a quick stop," said Minnie with an apologetic glance over her shoulder. Her cheeks were red and she was biting her lip. "I swear. We're just gonna pick up some stuff from Leon and Luke's guy."

"This place looks like the opening shot of a horror movie," Beth climbed out of the car and slammed the door shut in one fluid movement.

The two guys on motorcycles had parked on the other side of the street. She hadn't looked at them straight on yet, but out of the corner of her eye she already formed the impression that they firmly belonged on this street.

She'd never seen a neighborhood this _obviously_ bad in her life, let alone willingly stepped onto the curb. The houses were all shabby to the point of careless neglect. No one who lived here took pride in it. The low, cheaply made rooftops sagged, the sidings were crumbling and she could see broken windows. In some places people had tried for some rudimentary repair with found objects; sheet metal, molding cardboard and chicken-wire were visible from where she stood.

Leon and Luke didn't get out of the car, but Minnie and Karen bounced up the driveway.

"Ain't you comin'? He's _your_ dealer, I imagine, you oughta introduce us?" Beth lingered on the curb, leaning down, resting her hands on her knees. She peered in through the window. She would feel a lot better about them going inside if they had a couple of big strong guys with them.

Leon wouldn't look her in the eye, but he was still smiling, and he rolled down the window to better talk to her. "Nah, that's okay—at least it don't seem like Minnie minds, but if you're really looking for _formal introductions_," he cleared his throat, "The Dixon brothers here can do the honors," with that, Leon reached through the window to clasp a large, heavy hand.

Beth started. She hadn't realized that the two motorcycle riders had gotten this close, or that they were heading to the same house. She pushed a curtain of blonde hair aside and stood up straight to face them.

"Hey Merle," said Leon stiffly to the man who's hand he grabbed.

"Lookin' for a fun time tonight, kid?" Merle asked Leon, but his gaze was on Beth with a grin that immediately made her feel like she needed four showers. Her first impression of him, besides the unsavory feeling that slithered down her throat was that he was a _big_ man, wide chest and thick knuckles and hair cropped so close to his head that she could see his scalp all the way around. She'd guess that he was around fifty years old. He was dressed in leathers, with a studded cuff on one wrist.

"Not tonight, man," Leon shook his head, "We're fresh outta cash, so we thought we'd be better to just wait—avoid temptation and all that—hey Daryl, doin' alright?" Leon craned his head to look around Merle and address the other Dixon brother.

Daryl was meandering on the curb, eyes on the gutter, though he looked up and nodded to Leon. He wasn't as tall as his brother, but he had wide shoulders and big hands, like him. He was clearly a lot younger, but Beth couldn't place his age. She wouldn't be surprised if he was as young as his late twenties or as old as his forties. Like his brother, he was wearing motorcycle leathers. With his body turned away from them she could barely catch a glimpse of a pair of stitched-on angel wings on the back of his vest.

"Yeah, we're just here to hook up the girls," said Luke indicating Nick's house with his eyes.

Minnie and Karen were hovering in front of the door, seemingly pushing one another to actually do the knocking.

"Oh, so it's _you_ lookin' for a party, is it?" Merle turned to face Beth directly. All pretense of being interested in what the boys had to say sliding away.

Deer in the headlights was a fairly unfamiliar feeling for Beth. She didn't like it.

"Not her—her ass was dragged along, but, hey, night's still young. We'll make a wild-child of her yet," Luke winked at Beth.

She rolled her eyes back at him, "Can we _please_ just go?"

"Go hurry your friends along—we'll be waitin'," Luke blushed red as he waved Beth off.

She took another sideways look at the Dixon brothers and was sorely tempted to wait in the car with Luke and Leon, but something about letting her friends (who she was beginning to realize might not have the best judgment) enter a crack-den by themselves didn't sit right with her.

Besides that, if she was being completely honest with herself, she _was_ a little curious to see the inside of this place. Would it be as foreboding as the outside? She didn't feel precisely like she was in danger, but more that she was aware that she _should_ feel uneasy. In the end, she just wished that Luke and Leon would get out of the car and come with her.

"Are we even _going_ to the concert? Tell the truth." Beth demanded.

Next to her, Merle's grin widened and he let out a throaty chuckle. "No good lyin' to the girl, she'll make you pay for it later."

Leon nodded vigorously, "Of course we're goin' to the concert. I paid for the tickets."

"You guys are jerks," said Beth in her sweetest voice. With that, she turned on her heel and marched up the driveway. Merle was laughing; he leaned against the car, while Daryl fell into step just behind her

"Oh, come on!" Leon called after her, but she ignored him.

Karen and Minnie had vanished at some point, though she hadn't noticed anyone answer the door. Tentatively, Beth reached out to knock, but Daryl brushed right up next to her. She stiffened inadvertently as he passed so close that she was hit full in the face with the smell of cigarette smoke and motor-oil. He was taller than her by a head, and made a visible effort not to meet her eyes as they were standing so close. Clearing his throat he turned the knob and pushed the door open, stepping back and gesturing for her to go on with one hand.

She bit her lip and meant to glance up at his eyes, but got snagged looking at his mouth instead. He had a short goatee and his lips were in a thin line, curled slightly into his teeth so he could chew on them anxiously. She was struck with the immediate impression that he didn't smile much. Right before she would have stared too long she forced her eyes up to his and said, "…We just walk in?"

"Pfft," Impatient with civility, Daryl walked inside the house, nudging her shoulder with his arm as he swept past.

She gave the curb a quick backward glance. Merle was still saying some words to Leon and Luke in a quiet shout, as he walked backwards up the driveway. She took a deep breath and stepped inside the house. Daryl had already booked it out of sight. The little hallway made a straight-shot into the backyard of the lot, also splitting into a narrow, awkwardly steep staircase and a couple of rooms. The first was a living room and Beth was immediately struck by how normal the place looked. Shabby, certainly, but she wouldn't have pegged it for the lair of a drug-dealer. There was a small fireplace, a pretty nice flat-screen and Blu-ray, a couple of mismatched chairs and a couch. Some heavy blinds kept too much sunlight from coming it. The carpet was old and probably didn't get cleaned regularly. It was clearly a very lived-in kind of place; heavy with the weight of bodies trying to rest between obligations. She could hear voices coming from the kitchen, but none of them sounded like Karen or Minnie.

A heavy hand rested on her shoulder as Merle caught up to her. He closed the front door with a snap and jerked his head towards the back of the house, "That way kiddo, your friends'll be in the bedroom with Nick." he winked at her and sauntered off, heading towards the kitchen, where the voices greeted him at boisterous decibels.

She started back in the direction that he'd indicated, but she could already hear them exiting the room. Karen and Minnie were restraining giggles while Nick told them "Y'all hustle back next time you're lookin' for some recreation," he was a stocky, heavy-browed man with a deep and oddly soothing voice. "Y'all are some _lucky_ girls, lemme tell ya. Luke and Leon hooked you _up_—and I'ma take care of ya." His dark eyes fell on Beth and his smile didn't falter, "Hey sha."

"Nice to meet you," Beth mumbled, "We all done here?"

"Looks like your friend's in a hurry," Nick chuckled, "I'll see ya out." He paused and his skin paled ever so slightly as sirens sounded, not close, but not far enough away. When he saw all three girls staring at him, he laughed shortly, "Tough habit to break," he shrugged it off, "Don't worry, kids, it's a shitty neighborhood, the pigs pay a visit from time to time, but they won't come here." Even as he spoke it sounded like the sirens were nearing them, but with confidence he walked them right to the door and swung it open. Simultaneously, Beth heard the shrieking of tires as Luke and Leon peeled away from the curb like the devil himself had revved his engine at their back.

Minnie's jaw dropped to her collarbone and her eyebrows shot up.

"_Shit_!" said Karen and she immediately burst into a fit of laughter.

"Whoa there—I 'spose chivalry's dead, and all?" Nick chuckled, peering around the corner of the street where they'd disappeared. The last few words he spoke were drowned out as the sirens became impossibly loud, before they abruptly shut off, but the flicker of red and blue lights from the other side of the street drew her eye. Nick was right—the cops weren't coming here. They were chasing a neat, old El Camino that had jumped up the curb three seconds before the driver tumbled out and headed into a different house at a run.

The cops were too late to stop him—he was inside the house with the door slammed shut in an instant. Five officers drew their weapons and approached cautiously. For a moment, everyone just watched the scene, all of them admittedly fascinated by the spectacle. But there wasn't much to see. In minutes, something must have changed, because she saw them all back off from the house, lingering by their cars. One of them was shouting into a radio.

"What a couple of pussies," Minnie finally spoke. Glaring at the opposite end of the street, where Leon and Luke had made a run for it. She ripped her cell phone out of the pocket of her mini-skirt and Beth saw her begin to type furiously, _THE HELL!? GIT UR PANSYASSES BACK HERE!_

Beth finally laughed too, it _was_ kind of funny.

Nick leaned against the doorframe, smirking at the three of them.

Their smiles all ebbed as more sirens filled the air.

"Uh…" Nick furrowed his brow as three more units appeared on the opposite end of the street. More sirens screamed in the distance and Beth began to worry that every cop in Georgia was converging onto this one little street. She hadn't felt panicked yet, not even when Leon and Luke took off, or when the cops almost rushed the house down the street, but now she was starting to get nervous, because Nick looked nervous. "Maybe… come inside and hang for a few, 'till we can get your boys back here."

Minnie's phone buzzed, Beth glanced at the screen over her shoulder. _Are they gone?_

"What do you mean 'are they gone' ya idiot?!" Minnie shouted out-loud, "Y'all let out not _two minutes ago_!" She began to text _WHERE ARE YOU?_ Then deleted the message, "I'ma call 'im."

Nick ushered them back into the house, looking nervously at the small cavalry of police who had invaded the street. "Just stay calm," he said, still trying to laugh it off, though a few beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead in the last few minutes.

Back inside the house, the sound of sirens was muffled a bit. From the kitchen, a thin guy with a short Mohawk appeared, "Problem, Nick?"

"Nah, don't think so, Andy," Nick shrugged, "The girls are just a little excited 'cause their boys skedaddled when they heard 'em cops."

Andy let out a bark of laughter.

"_What—what happened_?" Beth heard Merle demand from the kitchen.

"Leon and Luke ditched their friends here," Andy explained, leaning back into the kitchen.

_"The fuck is wrong with ya, boy?!"_ Minnie demanded, indicating that she must have been able to get Leon to answer his phone. "You're my cousin—my kin, and ya just _leave_ me stranded like this?!"

Exchanging a look with Karen, Beth headed towards the kitchen after Nick, leaving Minnie alone in the hallway to chew Leon out over the phone.

In the kitchen, Andy took his place at a table with Merle and two other guys who looked like they were probably related to Nick.

Daryl was sitting on the edge of the counter, removed from the others and kind of hunched over. When the girls entered he glanced up, "They _left_ you here?" she realized it was the first time she'd heard him speak. Like his brother, he had the same deep country accent and a similar gravelly quality to his voice, like he'd smoked every cigarette he could find. Beth couldn't help but notice that everyone looked up at him when he spoke, not just listening but heeding.

She nodded in response, wearing a plastic smile.

He scoffed.

"My little baby brother don't approve," Merle chuckled, "Ask 'im nicely, I be he'll rough 'em up for ya."

"I think Missy in there can handle it herself," said Daryl darkly, indicating with one hand the hallway where Minnie was shrieking at her cousins.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE COPS ARE SETTING UP A BARRICADE?!"

At that, everyone perked up. "What the hell's goin' on Nick? Can't you control your neighbors?" asked Andy, nervously thumbing at the spiked locks in the front of his mohawk .

"There's two dozen houses on this block, I've only ever spoken to the lady a couple doors down and her kid," Nick shrugged, "I don't know what people get up to. But I can tell ya… number 708, across the way. You seen the El Camino parked there?"

"Oh yeah," said Merle and all the guy's suddenly nodded in recognition. "That guy? He lent me a light once. Seemed okay."

"He's got the cavalry after him tonight, for _some_ reason," said Nick.

Merle let out a heavy sigh and shook his head in disproval, "People, huh?"

Finally, as her eyes crossed Merle's gaze Beth started to feel real fear creep in. Something serious was going on. What were the chances that she'd be able to get out of here without talking to the police? What if they guessed what she and her friends were doing there? She and Minnie were technically still underage. They hadn't graduated yet. Her stomach twisted as she remembered some students from her high school a few years ago who'd been expelled during their senior year and weren't allowed to walk, precisely because they got caught in a place like this, with illegal substances like the ones that Minnie and Karen had on them.

How close were they to that kind of a scenario, right now?

From the look on Karen's face, she was having similar thoughts. The men continued to laugh and talk as if nothing was bothering them, but Beth saw little signs that indicated that they might be getting anxious as well. She didn't know any of them well enough to be sure, but Nick seemed twitchy, very different from the relaxed demeanor that he'd first displayed. He kept scratching his head and glancing in the direction of the front door. Daryl didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, he fidgeted while looking in the one direction that was guaranteed to help him best avoid eye-contact with anyone; out the back window.

Minnie's shouted phone conversation fell silent for several minutes. For a while it seemed like the room was breathing easier, and then Minnie's voice came back, muffled at first, but it steadily grew as she started talking faster. "They won't let you through? Well—but they gotta let us leave. They can't just keep us inside the barricade." they only had to wait a beat before Minnie snapped, "Why not?" Minnie scoffed, "What the hell's that 'spose to mean?!"

Everyone in the kitchen was frozen solid, listening intently. No one pretended like they weren't trying to overhear the one-sided conversation.

"YOU WANNA KNOW IF I'LL BE MAD IF Y'ALL GO TO THE CONCERT?! _Shit son_! _I'm already mad,_ but if y'all go without us—I'll _still _be mad, but you'll be dead, hear me boy? Ya _done_ for!"

Merle snorted with laughter, "The country really shines outta that one when she's pissed, don't it?"

With a roar of frustration and a strangled final expletive Minnie ended the call and appeared in the doorway. Face bright red with fury and her nostrils flared.

"What's goin' on?"

"They tried to drive back and hit a barricade that the cops are setting up all around—they're not letting anyone in or out. Says there's some _hostage_ situation going on at one of your neighbor's houses," she rolled her eyes, clearly not impressed, or perhaps not believing it.

"Hostage?" Nick frowned, but shrugged it off after a moment's contemplation, "Alright, fine—makes sense not to let anyone in, but why can't _you_ leave? What's the point of keeping such sweet little dolls hostage on the same street as some psycho is _takin' hostages_?"

"That right there is ironic," said Andy with a laugh.

"It's shit, is what it is," snapped Minnie, "We're gonna miss the concert. Leon says he talked to one of the officers and he told him to get lost, said the whole block is on lock-down. No one comes or goes 'til the situation is resolved."

"Maybe they're thinkin' they might wanna level other charges, while they're in the area," suggested Merle with a dark look directed to Nick.

Unable to hide a grimace, Nick attempted to shrug this off as well, but couldn't quite manufacture convincing ease in time. "It's fine—they got no reason to harass us. We'll just wait it out."

"Leon and Luke are going _without _us," said Minnie indignantly, "They said that there's nothing they can do, and it could be hours. They don't want to miss anything," she rolled her eyes.

"'Course not," Beth let out a heavy sigh.

"_Beth_," Minnie looked pained as she slid an arm across Beth's shoulders and pulled her into a tight one-arm hug. Automatically, Beth wrapped her arms around her friend's waist, resting her chin on her shoulder. "I'm sorry—you didn't even wanna come here."

"That's okay," Beth pulled back with a tired smile. "I didn't wanna go to the concert either, so…" she trailed off, a little surprised by the hurt expression on Minnie's face.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Minnie, you know me—I'm kinda lame. If it was up to me I'd just have gone for a ride, eaten ice-cream in bed and be asleep by like… eight." She tried to smile, but just ended up looking at the floor.

"Well, lucky us that's not the case," said Merle, "'Cause of your total lack of spine, we'll be enjoyin' the pleasure of charmin' company for the evening's festivities. Whatever shall we do to pass the time?" Merle chuckled, shooting Beth another leering glance that struck her with the same sickening weight as before. She knew her face must be burning red. Nick, his kin at the table and Andy all grinned, while Karen and Minnie snorted with laughter.

Only Daryl didn't seem to find it amusing. "Shut up, jackass, she don't _know_ you." He kicked the back of his brother's chair with his leg that was dangling off the side of the counter. "…Don't know you're jokin'," he added gruffly.

"My apologies, doll," said Merle with a flippant wave of one hand. "Could be worse, ya know. Could've found yourself stuck in a shit-hole with a bunch of lowlifes or somethin'."

* * *

**Some of you might recall me claiming that this would be a short story... blatant lies. Sorry. It's is going to be another multi-chapter.**

**This one is shaping up to be fairly light and fluffy—especially compared to Killer and Mother. Like… this is about as cute as I get, party-people. I didn't mean for this introductory chapter to be quite so long, but it just happened! Other chapters will probably be snappier. Hope you enjoy:) Please let me know what you think, I'm always curious to get thoughts and reactions.**

**And your Bethyl song of the chapter is... The World Spins Madly On - The Weepies. Good stuff. I highly recommend the Ryan Woodward "Thought of You" film on YouTube, if you haven't seen it before... you just need to. And think of Daryl and Beth, because good feels.**


	2. Farmgirl

**Before moving forward in our timeline we're going to get Daryl's POV... We'll be switching back and forth between Beth and Daryl pretty evenly from here on out.**

* * *

Would it have killed Merle and his new friend to shack-up at _her _place? Daryl had been shut out all day. At first he didn't mind, he did what he always did when left to his own devices. He drank whiskey on the back porch, smoked half a pack of cigarettes, did some chin-ups on the bar in the garage when he got restless, and when he got _really_ restless he took his crossbow out into the local wilds and looked for something to kill.

Today's haul was rabbit. Again. Merle would probably complain, but they were running low on cash. Again.

By four o'clock he'd set up in the garage to change the oil on his bike, and when that was done and there was still no signs of life from without their shack, he went ahead and did Merle's bike too. Neither of them would be in desperate need of a change for another few hundred miles, but there was nothing better to do.

"Hey… Daryl, right?" he looked up from the pan that the dirty oil was draining into, finding Merle's friend in the doorway of the garage. She was barefoot and hanging out of her blouse, a pair of stupidly-high heels dangled from one hand. Merle liked blondes; this one was brassy and curly, her voice husky with a lifetime of cigarettes. "Merle's still asleep. Don't 'spose you could gimme a ride into town?" Her makeup was smeared into the crow's feet on either side of her eyes. She looked exhausted and maybe still a little high.

Daryl was surprised she even remembered his name—they'd only met for about three seconds in the dark of that morning when she and Merle stumbled through the yard together, passing where Daryl was sacked out in the hammock. He couldn't remember _her_ name, but he wanted to say Starla?

With one shoulder he shrugged, cleaning some of the dirty oil off his fingertips. "Gimme a minute." He grumbled, heading into the house; if you could call it a house, which Daryl figured he might as well. They'd only been living there for about a month. The place was off-the-beaten path and abandoned. He wasn't sure how Merle had known about it, but he'd never asked.

It was filled with the usual mismatch of stained and tattered furniture, mysterious items that didn't bare thinking about. No matter where he shoved the stack of yellow newspapers they were always somehow still in the way of the door, he gave them another little shove with his foot and didn't even flinch when the whole stack came tumbling down.

He heard Merle cuss from the other room. At first he thought that the noise had awoken him, but then he heard his brother's voice say, "_…For that price I'll do the job dressed as Marilyn Monroe and for another dollar I'll let ya film it."_ He was talking on the phone.

By the sounds of things, there might actually be something for them to do. Which was a good thing; Daryl had eight ragged dollars in his pocket and Merle had some lint.

Heavy foot-falls from the bedroom preluded his brother's shadow as he ambled into the main room, still half-dressed and half-awake, "Alright, we'll be 'round in a cottonpickin' minute. Slaughter the fatted calf and all that." He hung up and slipped his phone into his back pocket. "Wanda still here?"

"Outside—I was just gonna drop her off at McCoy's," Daryl finally found his jacket and vest tossed behind the splintered remains of a coffee table that had been shoved into the corner after it lost too many legs to be useful.

"We can take her on the way," Merle called as he headed back into the bedroom to get his own clothes.

"Ya know, Darleena, if you wanted to bring a pair of boobs back here some time; I could be the one to clear out."

"Nah, you wouldn't," Daryl grumbled, "Also, shut up."

Merle chuckled, "That was Nick—wants us to come by. You ain't met his nephews yet, have ya? Young guys, but they've got some connections we might be interested in."

"Like what?"

"Guns. They're looking for a few more arms to come along on a leg of the journey. I told 'em we was available."

Daryl nodded. It wasn't what he would have picked, and he could sense that Merle knew it, just by looking at him. However, that eight dollars was feeling pretty lonely inside his pocket. "Sounds good," he muttered, but it didn't sound good. It sounded like a pain in the ass.

* * *

"It's not that I _disdain_ legit work," Merle popped his kick-stand out. He'd started talking the moment that the engines of their bikes went quiet. He spoke like he was continuing a conversation that they'd been having earlier, but it was all in his head. All the same, he was reading his little brother's mind, or maybe he was just thinking about the look on his face, when he'd told him about the job. Daryl hadn't done a good enough job making himself look blank.

Now, they were pulled over across the street from Nick's place. A familiar black Accord with a matte paint-job was parked out front. It had been just ahead of them on the road. Daryl couldn't remember who the car belonged to, but he was pretty sure he'd seem them hanging around Nick's before.

The back door of the Accord opened and out stepped a petite blonde.

Daryl did a double-take. She wasn't familiar at all, and he only needed one sweeping glance to tell him that she did _not_ belong here. She seemed to know it too. She was fidgeting on the curb with her hands worrying the insides of her pockets. Long blonde hair bounced in loose waves around a concerned, pretty face.

"What?" Daryl snapped his neck back to his brother.

"You listenin' to me?" Merle crossed his arms, frowning. He gave the blonde a pointed glance, silently accusing Daryl.

"'Bout what?"

"I said it ain't that I got a problem with legit work… by the sweat of thy brow 'n all—fine. Respectable. It's just that honest labor don't pay near as much as the other kind." Merle started to step away from the curb, but lingered, wanting to finish his thought before they got within earshot of anyone else.

"Yeah, I know," Daryl lowered his own kick-stand and got off his bike.

"And whatever they might say, more money means _less_ problems for you and me, little baby brother." He sounded like he was trying to talk himself into it. Daryl didn't need to call his brother out. It was clear enough from the way Merle's eyes wouldn't quite meet his that he wasn't as onboard with this idea as he pretended to be.

Running guns was dangerous work; it also tended to throw you into situations where you'd have to take other jobs of equal or more danger. Merle didn't want to go to jail again, and Daryl had so far managed to avoid a brush with the law. He didn't want to change that.

"Yeah, we gotta do it," Merle nodded at the ground.

Where they really that desperate?

"Whatever ya say, man," Daryl mumbled. He remembered who owned the Accord now; Leon and Luke, a couple of college-idiots. They were usually only around in the summer or between semesters. A pair of curvy brunettes approached Nick's front door, but the blonde girl stay back by the car, exchanging a few words with Leon, college-douche-number one.

Merle managed to sneak up on her when he greeted the boys. Daryl took note of how his older brother so easily buried all the unease that had wrinkled his face just an instant before.

Daryl hung back and let them engage in ideal chitchat, picking up just enough to determine exactly what he suspected about Miss Blonde. She didn't belong here, and she didn't even _want_ to be here. She was nibbling on her lower lip and playing with the ends of her long tresses, big blue eyes steadily taking in each of them like she got more from a look than language.

When she finally looked up at Daryl he was ashamed to feel an unwanted tremor. She was a _young_ woman. Barely even a woman. He was almost relieved when he recognized a familiar apprehension in her face. Almost. Of course, she'd only look at him and see some dirty hick. He wouldn't expect anything different.

"You guys are jerks," she told her friends in a voice like honey, and then she surprised Daryl by heading right up towards the house. He couldn't see why she'd willingly approach alone, when she was clearly nervous. Almost unconsciously he fell into step behind her, taking note of a peculiar expression on his brother's face as he watched him follow the girl.

For some reason it bothered him that neither college-douche agreed to go with her when she asked. Out of her element, she left the car anyway; maybe it was all in spite. Still, Nick wasn't as big a creep as _some_ guys, even if the college-douches owed him money he wouldn't harass them much. Luke had been checking out her ass as she walked away, would it have killed him to just go with her like a decent friend? Standing right behind her was the better view anyway.

She stopped in front of the door and Daryl almost walked right into her back, but managed at the last second to weave his way off to one side in a movement that he hoped didn't feel too awkward. He got a whiff of horse and something woodsy. A farmgirl; he should have guessed from the mud and grass on her cowboy boots. She rubbed at her knuckles, glancing up at his face with doll-like eyes after he reached out and pushed the door open.

"…We just go in?" she asked in a small voice after several seconds.

Daryl pushed past her, done. She wasn't his problem. If she didn't want to go inside, she didn't have to. No one was making her.

In the kitchen he found Andy, who was easily one of his least favorite lowlifes, and two guys he'd never met, but who he could guess right away were Nick's nephews.

"Hey man!" Andy slapped Daryl's hand and gripped it briefly as he walked by, "This here's Daryl Dixon—Merle's little baby bro. Daryl, this is Jeremiah," he indicated the older one, a mean-looking guy with a stubbly beard that didn't quite manage to completely hide the scar starting at the corner of his mouth. One side of his face had been snipped open, not a full Glasgow smile—just a smirk. He nodded to Daryl, leaning back a little further in his chair as he sized him up.

"And that's Evan," he indicated Nick's other nephew, a young guy—as young as farmgirl's college-douche friends.

Evan gave him a friendly smile that was only slightly lop-sided due to a couple of piercings below his lips that seemed recent; the skin was a little puffy.

"Where's Merle?" Andy looked expectantly at the doorway.

"Chattin' with Leon and Luke outside." Daryl picked out the counter with the most room and hoisted himself up to sit on top of it. He scooted back as far as he could in order to bring up one foot up with him.

"What are Leon and Luke doin' here? Ain't they got school for another few months?" Andy pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket and slipped the rubber-band off, shuffling them in his hands under the table.

"Don't we all," Evan rolled his eyes.

"It'd break auntie's heart if you didn't finish, 'sides, ain't like you can't afford it," said Jeremiah with a warning look at Evan.

Evan shrugged in response.

"What we got here?" Merle ambled into a kitchen a split-second later. Both nephews and Andy greeted him enthusiastically, kicking out the last chair at the kitchen table for him to take a load off. "So, let's get right to it—we're in, where and when?"

Daryl raised an eyebrow at his brother, he'd half-expected Merle to waffle a little, bide his time and check out the risks before he ripped off everything, including his skivvies and went in feet first.

"Glad to hear it," said Jeremiah, "gonna be tomorrow night—I know it's late notice, we had some guys uh… drop, last minute."

"You mean get arrested?" grumbled Evan.

"They're idiots. We'll caravan from Winters' place, if ya know it."

"Sure," Merle managed to smoother the last of his anxiety with a nonchalant shrug.

"Now of course, I asked you to come by, 'cause I make it a policy not to ever work with someone I ain't never met before in person," Jeremiah gave Daryl a searching look, "As temptin' as it was to make an exception for _your_ brother, who I'm sure is an stand-up a guy as you are, I figured we could make a night of it, have a few drinks and exchange a little history."

"I'm not one to knock another man's proven policies," said Merle, glancing over his shoulder at where Daryl was perched on the counter, "All set for your first big job interview?"

In response Daryl snorted and rolled his eyes, which Jeremiah seemed to approve of because he pulled the non-mutilated side of his mouth up to flash some yellowing teeth.

From outside, sirens began to blare.

Although Daryl had managed to avoid the police thus far in his life, he still felt a like he was on livewires whenever he heard them coming. He held his breath as the sound drew nearer. Merle was easier about it, perhaps because he was more used to them, he kept talking over the noise, "Maybe y'all can convince your Uncle Nicky to sacrifice a little product to our night, whaduya think?"

Andy and the nephews tried to keep talking with him, but after a few more seconds, when it became clear that the cops were heading in their direction, everyone got tense. Daryl glanced out the back-door. The run-down little yard was fenced in. Beyond the fence was a small wild. If he had to, he could probably book it into the trees. He didn't want to ditch his brother, but Merle could be pretty stupid when it came to cops. Sometimes, Daryl was pretty sure he went looking for a fight with them. Daryl couldn't control him and could only help him up to a point. If it came down to it, he'd be more use to Merle outside of a pair of handcuffs.

Jeremiah actually got up out of his chair and seemed tempted to go see what was happening, but Andy beat him to it and stopped short. Nick must be out there, Daryl heard them exchange some words, the gist of which was that Leon and Luke had gotten spooked by the cops and made a Dukes of Hazard-style run for it.

"_You're my cousin—my kin, and ya just leave me stranded like this?!_" He could hear one of the girls shrieking, presumably into a cell-phone.

Nick appeared in the kitchen with the two other girls. Farmgirl leaned against the far wall, an expression of exasperation on her face as she surveyed the room.

"They _left_ you here?" he hadn't meant to speak at all, but the words fell out. His hands clenched into fists. They were even bigger dicks than he'd thought.

Farmgirl met his gaze and confirmed with a nod of her head and a soft cooing sound like a dove. She didn't seem at all surprised by their behavior.

"My little baby brother don't approve. Ask 'im nicely, I be he'll rough 'em up for ya."

From the other room he could still hear the girl on the phone stomping around, "I think Missy in there can handle it herself," he observed.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE COPS ARE SETTING UP A BARRICADE?!"

Daryl braced himself for the panic that these words would incite. Everyone did immediately start babbling a little, but no one made a mad dash for the hills crying every-man-for-himself, which was good. Daryl couldn't see that working out for anyone except maybe himself, and possibly farmgirl, what cop could really stay mad at her? She was clearly under duress and looked like she knew how to cry on cue. Their worry was cut short when the girl on the phone started screaming again.

"The country really shines outta that one when she's pissed, don't it?" Merle observed.

The brunette hung up her abused cell and returned to give her report on what Leon and Luke had learned from the cops when they tried to return, Daryl was already settled in and preparing himself for a night of more of the same. He'd heard about these kinds of situations before. They always lasted longer than they ever needed to. The cops had too many rules, too many egos with ideas that wouldn't work. They might be here a while. He tuned out for a few minutes, letting the others fill the kitchen with their voices.

It was a just a bad situation. Nick was a moron for agreeing to sell product to teenagers and the girls had to be on the dumb side if they'd willingly come here in the first place.

All the same, the girls looked nervous and as much as Daryl just wanted to take a firm 'its-their-own-damn-fault' stance, he had to acknowledge the hypocrisy. He hadn't exactly been a good boy when he was growing up. They were rightly scared something bad would happen to them. The cops might get them in trouble, or Nick might, or one of the men at the house might prove to be a real creep.

He decided right then that he and Merle weren't going to let that happen. They were stupid girls, but they deserved to feel safe and be safe as long as they were stuck here. For as long as it took the cops to quit dicking around and haul number 708 into the back of one of their cruisers, he'd make sure that everything was good and boring at Nick's druggie-pad.

He'd just made up his mind about this when he heard his brother make a suggestive comment to farmgirl.

Farmgirl's cheeks went pink and she shifted her weight, her little hands gripping the pockets of her painted-on jeans, anxious.

"Shut up, jackass, she don't _know_ you." Daryl nudged the back of Merle's chair with his foot, so that he'd know he was serious, "…Don't know you're jokin'."

"My apologies, doll." Merle might be a little slow on the uptake, but Daryl knew that when it came down to it, he'd feel the same way. He did a good impression of a bad guy, but Daryl knew his big brother better than that.

As the air began to buzz with worried talk again, the two brunettes settled in, sitting on top of the kitchen table next to one another, hands clasped. That they were friends made sense to Daryl, but farmgirl didn't quite fit. It wasn't just the way she was dressed—though her simple jeans and blouse combined with cowboy boots discriminated dramatically to the skanked-out style that her friends sported—she had a totally different vibe. The way she talked and the way she sort of watched the room, engaged but distant, was very different from her friends. They were the type of people who liked to be in the middle of everything; the center of attention.

More like Merle.

She was comfortable watching. Daryl could understand that, but he couldn't understand what she was doing with these girls, or Leon and Luke.

He was just about to give up on the enigma that was farmgirl and get a beer out of Nick's fridge when a bull-horn chirped from outside and a loud voice announced that it was Officer Walsh, come to save the day.

* * *

**Did it feel cheap that I went back in time a little and covered familiar ground? Hope not. There will be little to zero overlap as chapters continue, I just thought it would be a good way to start out. I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter, and to everyone who's following or put me on their favorite's list:) It really keeps me motivated to keep working when I see that you guys are enjoying it!**

**Wish You Were Here – Pink Floyd**


	3. KJA

**Thanks to everyone who's already following and reading along! It's still early days with this one, but I'm hoping it can develop into something really fun for you folks. And thanks for the feedback! It really helps to know what you like/don't like:) **

* * *

The voice from the bull-horn outside repeated what Minnie had already informed them after her conversation with Leon, "_Alright, listen up, residents of Kelly Jo Ave. I'ma need everyone who can hear me to stay hunkered-down for the time being. I'm afraid there's a situation with your pal in 708, and until it's resolved, the safety of the surrounding area is compromised. The best thing to do is let us handle this. All y'all can sit tight 'til we say it's over, ya hear?"_

"I know that guy," grumbled Andy, as the message began to repeat itself, but further down the street, "Officer Shane. He's a piece of work."

"Aren't they gonna say how long?" Beth asked out-loud, cringing at an embarrassing note of desperation in her plea.

Nick rubbed at his head again and let out a short bark of laughter, "Hell, doll, they don't know! Could be five minutes, could be five days."

"Days?" her heart skipped. There was no way she was staying holed up here that long.

"Nah," Merle said with a frown, "The longest they'd _keep_ us here is a night. After that they'd have to escort us outside the barricade—all of us, and you just wouldn't be allowed back in your home 'till number 708 with the sweet-ass car gives up, or gets shot."

Staying the night didn't sound much better. Beth warily examined her companions and wondered if either Minnie or Karen were as concerned as she was. They didn't look it.

"If that happens… _you_…" Nick pointed to Minnie, "Tell the cops you're _his_ daughter. Lola. Got it?" he'd indicated Merle as her fake father.

"Mmm, come to daddy," Merle earned himself a couple of chuckles from Nick's kin.

Daryl, however snarled, "_Lola_?"

Nick continued his story, "And these are your friends. Y'all met up here 'cause he was taking ya out for dinner—you sure as hell weren't here to buy anythin' got it?"

Minnie nodded immediately, "Good thinkin'."

"If I gotta face charges… we can at least pare 'em down a bit," said Nick, looking sweaty again. "Keep you girls out of it," he added with a forced air like he was trying to convince them that it was for their sake they should lie.

"Man—don't talk like that," Merle leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, "The last thing we need is some fatalist sumbitch killin' the buzz. The cops are here for 708, they got no reason to bother us."

"All the same, let's not do anythin' to call attention to ourselves," Nick pleaded, "Or to make this any more precarious than it already is." He seemed to be eyeing his kin in particular, who looked understandably offended at being singled out.

"Yeah, no problem, buddy," said Merle, shooting Nick's kin a searching look, "We can all just kill time. Relax juntos like amigos. Got any DVDs? Netflix?"

While the guys started to toss around ideas for legal ways to pass the time, Beth began a whispered conversation with Minnie.

"How're you so calm?" she demanded. Minnie didn't just seem calm, there was a smile lurking underneath her red-stained lips.

"Oh, I'm furious—but I'm imagining revenge scenarios," said Minnie sweetly. "Besides… at least we've fallen in with some good-bad company. We can still make the most of tonight," her eyes flickered over to the man sitting farthest away from them—one of Nick's kin. He was probably the closest to their age, maybe in his early twenties. He had a couple of snake-bite piercings and hints of ink between his fingers.

"Minnie, really?" Beth shot her a look of deep disapproval.

"Oh, it's on."

Beth couldn't tell whether Minnie was joking or not, she sighed, crossed her arms and looked away. In response, her friend broke into giggles and shoved her gently, "I'm just trying to lighten the mood a little. This doesn't have to be the total disaster that it looks like. Besides… he _is_ cute."

This was the absolute worst situation she could possibly think of in which to meet a guy. Minnie was crazy.

"Any objections?" asked Nick loudly of the kitchen.

Beth hadn't heard what he was suggesting that she might object to.

"Does it have to be _that_ movie?" Karen stuck out her tongue in disgust. "It looked bloody. I get sick when I see a lot of blood."

The younger guy who Minnie had been drooling over looked Karen from the toes up, a small smile curling his mouth, "I'm Evan, by the way—and this is my cousin Jeremiah. What are your names?"

"Oh," Karen went a little red, "I'm Karen—that's Minnie and she's Beth."

"Well Karen," he sauntered right up to her, still wearing that little smile, "That ain't _real_ blood," he whispered like it was a secret which made Karen giggle, "Its corn syrup and corn starch, chocolate, and food coloring. Prob'ly tastes like candy, but I'll let you squeeze my arm if you're scared."

Karen's smirk gave away how much she liked the idea. Minnie shot her a narrow-eyed glare, which Karen answered by not-so-subtly flipping her the middle finger behind her back as she walked into the living room behind Evan.

"Can ya believe the cheek of that one?!" Minnie hissed under her breath.

One by one they made their way into the living room where Nick was setting up the Blu-ray. Beth and Daryl lingered last, him standing back to allow her to go in first while he fished a beer out of the fridge.

"Claimed," said Andy as he fell into the largest chair, "But I'd be willin' to share with one of 'em girls. They could sit on my—"

Nick at least, seemed to be looking out for them because he lightly swiped Andy up the back of his head. "Knock that shit off, right now. It's bad enough they're still here."

Karen and Minnie laughed like it was hilarious. They'd taken either end of the couch, with Evan between them. Jeremiah and Merle both made to get up and let her have a chair, but Beth pretended not to notice and sat on the ground cross-legged and close to the hallway, pulling her phone out of her pocket as she curled her legs underneath her.

Daryl lingered in the doorway of the kitchen, seemingly torn between watching the movie or being alone with his beer.

It only took a few minutes into the film for Beth to decide that no one was paying enough attention to her to notice if she slipped out. She picked a particularly loud moment when they were all distracted and half-crawled away, shutting herself into the hallway bathroom. The mirror was cracked, drawing a dark line through her face and distorting her features so it looked like her eyes were out of alignment. She sat on the edge of the bathtub and dialed Maggie.

"Please, be there," she murmured.

"Hey almost-birthday girl." Maggie picked up after just two rings.

"Maggie."

"Something wrong?" Maggie's voice immediately went up.

"I don't know, maybe no, but… you remember, once you told me that if I was ever someplace, and I didn't feel okay about it—but I couldn't tell mom and dad or Shawn, that I could just call you and you'd come get me?" Beth twisted her hair around her finger and noticed that her hand was shaking. She hadn't realized how nervous she really felt until she heard Maggie's familiar, comforting voice."…and you won't tell any of 'em about it?"

"Where are you?!"

"I didn't catch the name of the town—it's some little place. I'm in a house on a street called Kelly Jo Ave. Can you look it up? There's some hostage situation going on a few doors down and the police are all over the place, but I bet I could sneak out—meet you up the road? I saw a little grocery just off the exit. I remember a gaudy sign that said Pig in a Poke."

"…You're being detained by cops?!"

"No! I'm not—it's some guy down the street they're after—look, I'm scared and I wanna leave." Beth blinked back the tiniest build-up of moisture in her eyes.

Hearing her panic seemed to snap Maggie into an entirely new voice, "Alright, don't be scared, I'll find it—I'll meet you, okay? If you can't sneak past the cops, then I'll just have to have a word with the lawmen. Don't worry, I'm coming."

"Okay," Beth breathed out in relief.

"I love you," Maggie hung up the phone.

"Love you too," said Beth to the empty bathroom. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to regain composure then started on a text message to Minnie, who was probably more likely to be checking her phone, since Evan didn't seem as interested in her as Karen.

_Come on. Let's sneak out the back door. Maggie is on her way._

Minnie responded almost immediately. _The movie is not THAT bad._

Beth stared in disbelief at the text for a beat, then another one followed it.

_J/k, but really why you tryna leave?_

_Cause these guys creep me out. I don't want to be here. Come on!_

_I'm not leaving. Karen won't either. Have you seen our shoes?! We'll get caught by the cops and then we'll have to explain what we're doing here. Then we'll all be dead. Even you, Miss Priss. I ain't leaving, and you sure ain't going anywhere neither._

Grinding her teeth, Beth read the words through at a speedy pace, feeling anger boil up inside her. If they wanted to stay, there was nothing she could do about it, but she wasn't sticking around here. Maggie was already on her way.

Beth opened the bathroom door, and as quietly as she could, she shut it, keeping the light on. Hopefully, that would buy her a few minutes. She turned left, heading straight to the back door.

* * *

So far, so good. The night was shaping up to be boring, which was exactly what Daryl thought was most appropriate. Everyone had settled into the living room to be offended and disgusted by movie-gore and pass a few hours in mindless entertainment. Even Daryl watched from his odd vantage point, leaning into the doorframe of the kitchen.

He took note of when Beth left the room, but no one else seemed to.

Checking to make sure she wasn't going to do anything stupid, he went through the kitchen to the other door that connected back to the main hall. Sure enough, the bathroom door was shut and the light was on.

He heard her speaking, but didn't eavesdrop. If she was calling the police—well, they were already around, and the lawmen had other things to worry about at least for a few minutes. Still, Daryl decided he'd better confront her when she came out, and make sure that she didn't do anything to get his big brother's ass in the clink again.

She took her time, so he ambled back to the kitchen and watched a few more sideways minutes of the movie. During a tense sequence he took a long pull off his beer and turned away, glancing out the screen door in the kitchen. His gaze hit the yard just in time to see a hand and a cowboy boot disappear over the top of the fence.

"Shit_._" Daryl set his beer down and went outside.

Farmgirl was on the lamb.

He took the back fence at a run and hoisted himself up and over, landing hard on the other side with a crash. The trees were thick enough that he couldn't see the road where the police barricade was set up to surround Kelly Jo Ave. All he could see was a horizon of skinny trees and about fifty yards ahead—a petite blonde booking it.

"_GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE, GIRL!"_ Daryl hollered.

She started, and paused just long enough to turn around and see him standing there on her side of the fence. Holding still for a moment, she tricked him into thinking she might obey.

Then she bolted.

With a muttered cuss, Daryl tore after her.

* * *

**Sorry to end it there. I'm a jerk. Promise to have the next chapter up real quick, and obviously it will be full of lots of Beth and Daryl. I wanted to move as quickly as possible into bethyl-centric scenes (because duh) but three chapters of set-up proved necessary! It was actually five originally, but I decided that was far too much set-up. So, I did some trimming, just for you:)**

**Night Sky - CHVRCHES - The lyrics to this one are interesting, but I'll be honest, the reason it made me think of Behyl (aside from the fact that everything makes me think of bethyl these days) is because of the line about going blind... because of the bit in Still when she talks about bad moonshine making you go blind.**

**Peace out homies.**


	4. Sorry

**Hi new followers! *waves like an idiot***

* * *

"I'm tryin' to _help you_," after that, he was too mad to speak.

Also, it was difficult to think of words to calm her when every step she raced further away from him just made him more furious. He'd stop her first—then he'd talk at her—yell at her if the lawmen weren't too close to hear.

She was fast, in fact, for a moment he thought she was too fast for him. He didn't manage to catch her until they were just a few dozen yards from the barricade. A ditch and plenty of growth separated them from the cops, but still, it was closer than he wanted to be. There were four cruisers up ahead on that back road and a couple of figures marching around.

He caught her by one shoulder and wrapped his other hand over her mouth, worried she might scream. She shouted into his hand, but it was muffled. As she tried to wriggle away, his other hand clamped down harder over her shoulder.

She stumbled under his weight and they both toppled into the ground. Beneath the loud THUMP there was a sickening rip, Daryl groaned when he realized he'd _torn her shirt_.

_Dammit all to hell._ _How'd we get here?_

She was still struggling underneath him, loads of blonde hair flipped into his face as he tried to maneuver his head over her shoulder. "Hey—calm down, Barbie," he hissed to her, breathing a little ragged from their sprint. "I ain't gonna hurt ya—this ain't no kidnappin' neither—if you really feel so strongly 'bout leavin' be my guest. We gotta make a few things _real_ clear first."

With his hand still over her mouth he couldn't hear what she was trying to say. Mostly, it seemed like she was just whimpering, which made him feel slimier than he ever had in his life.

He growled, frustrated that he had to do this, "Hey come on—you don't wanna get your friends in trouble do ya?" As she started to settle, he uncovered her mouth.

"They _deserve_ it," she bit back at him, but she was trying to be quiet.

He'd half expected her to scream.

"Hey—hey _what about you_?" He kept a grip on her as she tried to twist out from under him. "You don't wanna get yourself in trouble with the cops—nah, you don't, you're a good girl, ain't ya? You can leave, I'll even help ya. But you can't be dumb about this—" For all her struggling to crawl out from under him, she only managed to mesh them into a more compromising position, he felt the curve of her pressing into him as she tried to push-up. "You gotta cut that out," he growled. He shifted his weight so that he was holding onto her across the shoulders with one hand and pushing her hips away from his own with the other. The fabric of her shirt and jeans slipped under his grip until his fingers were pinching into the flesh over her hip-bone. "_Quit_ grindin' up against me like that."

"Then let me _up_!" But she froze, seeming to understand finally, what was happening.

"You gonna run before I can say my peace? If ya get caught and say the wrong thing—" He'd been too focused on the girl, too intent on trying to keep her from running straight at the barricade and landing them all in hot water. He'd been thinking too hard about how this got so bad, so fast, about how she was scared and he wasn't all that surprised to find himself playing the villain of the piece. He was actually holding her down on the ground like exactly the kind of man he'd never wanted to be.

As a rule, Daryl was an observant guy, but he'd been thinking about all that stuff, instead of what was happening right around him. He'd been trying too hard not to think about how bad it _looked_… how bad it _felt_. He didn't raise his head in time—didn't see the policeman until he tore him off of Beth and plowed him straight into the dirt in one fluid movement; a flying tackle.

Daryl's whole life he'd managed to avoid handcuffs, and now he was going to be hauled in and charged with attempt rape? When the thought occurred to him to defend himself, it was followed immediately by a reminder of what happened to his kind when they tried to fist-a-cuff with cops. Daryl clenched his jaw. He hated taking a beating more than just about anything in the world, but he knew how to do it.

He barely got a glimpse of the cop's face before a heavy fist connected square in his face—his vision was still blurry from when his head hit the ground.

"STOP! STOP!" Beth shouted, "He didn't do _anything_!"

The cop had him pinned, and was slow to heed her. Daryl stuck his forearms in front of his face, but still had to take three more heavy blows before the cop let up.

"He didn't do nothin', I swear it—he didn't touch me, he was just tryin' to stop me from sneaking out," Beth was looking at the two of them with wide eyes, sparkling with tears that would have moved the hardest of hearts. "I'm sorry—it's my fault."

The cop rose up a little, but kept his knee pressed into Daryl's chest, holding him against the ground. He was bigger than Daryl and all made up of coiled aggression and muscles. If it was a fair fight he _might_ be able to take him, but seeing as how fighting a cop was never fair, he was sure he'd never get to test that theory. He stayed braced where he was, unsure whether the officer was really done getting his licks in.

"You live on this street?" demanded the officer.

"No sir," said Beth quickly, "We were just supposed to stop by for a minute—my friend was meetin' her daddy, he was gonna take us all out for dinner. Then you guys put up the barricade. I just wanna go home."

"Well, sorry to ruin your plans, little lady, but this here is a controlled situation until further notice. We might need to ask a few questions, might need to see to it that we got the full picture, understand?"

How could she? He was being vague on purpose, but she nodded, tossing a sparkling, wet glance Daryl's way, "He didn't do nothin' wrong, he was just telling me that I needed to come back to the house with my friends, 'cause I'd get in trouble if y'all caught me."

"Well, he'd be right about that," said the officer, pointedly gesturing at both of them.

"Please—I'm sorry—can you let him up? We'll just go back. We'll be good." She begged.

"Seein' as how you've learned your lesson," the officer stood up and finally lifted his knee off Daryl's chest. He drew in a deep breath, trying not to make any sound to indicate that he'd had the wind knocked out of him. His lungs were burning and he was pretty sure he was going to have some nasty bruises on the outside as well.

Once he was upright again and could scramble back a few feet, Daryl felt at his nose. It was bleeding, but not much. Still, he could tell that one eye would be black before long.

The officer had his chest all puffed out and wore a practiced glare of intimidation. He scratched at his short black hair, glancing casually towards the back-end of Kelly Jo Ave. "Which house are y'all holed-up in? Outta curiosity," he said dangerously.

"It's just the one straight back there," Beth answered automatically, "I think the number said 701, but I'm not sure. Her dad's friend lives there."

"701?" he repeated, "Why don't y'all head back. Sit tight 'til we know it's safe, understand?"

"Yes sir."

"You alright?" the officer looked at Daryl with a peculiar glare, as if daring him to cry excessive force.

"Yeah, all good over here," muttered Daryl.

"You wanna file a complaint, the name's Officer Shane Walsh. You can phone the station. I think the lady that takes care of that stuff is called Joanna."

"Nah, like I said," Daryl glared at him, rubbing a smear of red onto the back of his hand, "S'all good."

"Stay inside until this is resolved, got it?"

"Yes sir," Beth answered immediately.

Daryl nodded and turned to start walking back to the house, still seething.

Beth fell into step beside him, sparing Officer Walsh one last glance. She waited until he was out of earshot to catch Daryl's arm, "I'm sorry—are you really alright?" She reached out towards his eye.

Automatically he flinched away from her, "The hell's wrong with you? I'm fine. Girl, if you're gonna lie to a cop, at least tell _decent_ lies." He couldn't believe she'd actually gone with Nick's stupid-ass plan to try and convince the cops that one of the girls was Merle's _daughter_. Now they were going to have to commit to that load of crock. The likelihood of the story doing more harm than good was dangerously high.

"That's what Nick said to say," said Beth quietly, rubbing the fingers of the hand he'd pulled away from into her other palm.

"Nick don't know nothin'," Daryl snapped, "It was a dumb lie, but it wasn't the only one you told—I did _so touch you_, and I shouldn't have had to." Right then he noticed her shirt. She'd moved her long hair over the side of it, maybe on purpose, or maybe it just fell that way. In any case, it hid the damage he'd done to her clothes from Officer Walsh, but now the tresses were getting picked up by a breeze and he could see that he'd torn the neck clean open so the fabric was falling away, revealing a simple white bra lined with pink lace. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hold it closed.

"Dammit. Shouldn't've done that," he said between his teeth, "Shoulda just let ya _run._" He outstripped her in a few strides and stomped back to the fence with Beth in his wake.

Although she'd managed to get over the fence all on her own the first time, that was when she had a couple of foot-holes on the inside construction. Now, it was just a bare wall. Daryl watched her scuffle with the planks for a few seconds. She was purposefully not meeting his gaze. She didn't want to ask him for help after he'd snapped.

Feeling like shit for making her so scared of him, he stepped forward and held out his hands to make a foot-hold for her without her asking.

She took a moment before she let him help her. Fighting to meet his eyes, she held still, looking down at him until he finally met her gaze. "Thanks," she tried to smile but couldn't quite manage it. One hand was still keeping the torn fabric of her shirt together. She was forced to let go. She set one foot into his hands and gripped his shoulder as he lifted her up high enough that she could get her other leg over the fence. Awkwardly, she pulled the rest of her body over, landing with a soft thud on the other side.

He had to get another running start and scrap a little to get over the fence without help, but it didn't take long.

Once he hit the dirt on the other side, he found that Beth was still waiting there for him, holding onto her ruined shirt with the same penitent expression that she'd worn since Officer Shane clocked him in the face. "Daryl, I'm really sorry."

He couldn't help but think that really, she felt sorry _for_ him, but he would take it. He nodded. "We're good." But they weren't, not yet. He didn't know how to go about making up for handling her like that, wasn't sure he could, or if he should even bother trying. He could already feel it eating at him. He wasn't going to be able to forget about it anytime soon.

In silence, they entered the house together through the kitchen, from the living room, Merle poked his head around, eyebrows pulled together, "What the hell happened to you two?!"

Someone had the good sense to pause the movie, as they all craned their necks together to get a look. Beth sat down at the table, moving her hair over her shirt again to hide the gaping tear.

"Nothing, just needed some air," grumbled Daryl, in spite of everything, he almost smiled at his own blatant lie.

"Your face, bro," Merle shook his head, unamused.

"Officer Shane needed some air too," said Daryl with a shrug. "My face is fine, nose ain't broke, eyes still see. Cops don't care 'bout us. I'm just peachy," he picked up the same beer that he'd discarded earlier and downed the last of it in a few unsatisfying gulps as he fell into another chair and kicked his feet onto the table.

"You're doin' swell in this job interview," Jeremiah told him.

Evan laughed, "He's serious, so ya know."

"Damn right, I'm serious," said Jeremiah.

Daryl had forgotten about the damned job. He groaned inwardly and set the empty bottle on the table a little too hard.

They started the movie up again, apparently satisfied with the partial answer and lie that Daryl had allowed them. Beth was texting on her phone, Daryl resisted the urge to try and read what she was typing up-side-down. He might doubt her sincerity in her apology to him, but he didn't suspect her of any more trouble, for now. She looked good and defeated. His guts wrung with guilt.

Nick sauntered into the kitchen to get a beer after a few minutes.

"Hey, Nick? Could I go lie down? I'm not feeling so good," Beth asked.

"Help yourself, sha—you saw where the bedroom is, right?"

"Yeah. Thanks," she spoke while she was getting out of her chair, clearly anxious to be far away. Daryl watched her disappear into the hallway, shoulders hunched. The fabric tumbled underneath the curtain of blonde to give him a glimpse of a few strips of creamy white skin.

He shook himself mentally. It wasn't his problem. He had no reason to get himself worked up because some dumb bitch was all unhappy and wounded. He'd just been trying to protect his brother and the others from getting embroiled with the law. She knew it. So, why did he feel like such a dirt-bag?

With a growl of frustration he stopped Nick before he could leave the kitchen, "Hey man—that neighbor a couple doors down… The only one ya know."

"Yeah? What about her?"

"She a large woman?"

"Nah, she's thin," Nick frowned at the question, "Nice lookin' too, truth be told."

Daryl raised a hand, "Which side?"

"Two doors thataway," Nick pointed with the hand that wasn't wrapped around his beer; his frown deepened.

Daryl mirrored the gesture and stood up, "I'll be back."

"What are you doin' man?" Nick laughed, "Ya hard-up, or what?"

"Or what, asshole," Daryl muttered as he slipped out the back-door and turned to jump the side fence.

It wasn't his problem, but he could still do something to help, even if it was just something minor. Beth needed a new shirt.

* * *

**Thoughts? Concerns? Jokes?**

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**Skinny Love - Bon Iver**


	5. She Looks Good in Greene

Nick's bedroom had signs of a woman, a flowered eye-mask and a pair of petite socks balled-up in the corner caught her eye. Beth hadn't heard a wife or girlfriend mentioned yet. Maybe she was away. She scooted up against the bed-board, surrounded by the unfamiliar, musty smell of the room. But it was soft and far enough from the garish screams of the television, to at least muffle the horror. Not to mention she could be alone here.

She dialed Maggie again, her sister picked up after one ring, the sustained hiss of the road underlined her voice. She was talking on her phone while she drove. "Everythin' okay?" she asked frantically.

"Kinda. I couldn't get past the cops," said Beth.

"Didya get caught?!"

"Kinda. It was…" she couldn't think of words to accurately describe what had happened with Daryl out in the woods, besides embarrassing. Mortifying. In the end, Officer Shane Walsh had seemed just as put-off by the whole thing as they were. He didn't even ask for her name, but she felt certain that getting the house number from her meant he'd be by later. At least she was pretty sure she'd given him the wrong number. She wasn't sure whether she did in on purpose or not. "They just let me go back."

The phone filled with wind from Maggie's harsh exhale. "I shouldn't've let ya even try that," said Maggie angrily, "I should've just told you to stay tight 'til I could get there and talk to 'em."

"I don't know if that's gonna work."

"They've got _no_ reason to keep you there!" said Maggie with an angry growl, "It's gotta be in violation of—maybe I should call Andrea, she'd know."

"Who?" Beth's heart jumped, she didn't want this to go further than it needed to.

"Andrea—she's a new attorney at the firm. If there's something shady going on with the cops, she'll call 'em out. She seems to like that kinda thing."

"Please, Maggie. I don't want this to get outta hand. I just wanna go home. If you get lawyers involved, how likely is it that we can keep mom and dad from knowing exactly what happened?"

For several seconds Maggie was quiet and Beth only listened to the air whistling by the road.

"Beth, I don't wanna get you in trouble, but this _might_ be a big deal. Mom and dad knowing could be the least of your worries."

"Can we just hold off, for now?"

"…Alright, I'll try reasoning with the cops myself first, but I can't promise what'll happen if that doesn't work."

Beth felt sick thinking about what could happen. "Please, Maggie," she begged.

"You still haven't _told_ me what this is about," said Maggie sharply. She sounded worried for her; mostly overcome with concern, there was still a note of anger in her voice.

"Minnie and Karen… they wanted to get some stuff before the concert."

Maggie swore loudly into the phone, "You're holed-up and hiding from cops, with a _drug-dealer_?"

"He's actually alright," Beth defended Nick weakly, "Well—I mean—I don't know, he's probably _not_ alright."

"Probably!" said Maggie with a thoroughly unamused bark of laughter.

"I just mean he's _not_ the scariest guy here. Minnie and Karen are actin' like idiots. It's like they think this is just a big joke and there's nothin' to worry about."

"Who _is_ the scariest guy there?!"

"I don't know—they're all kinda frightening. One of 'em chased me down when I tried to get away."

"…What? I thought you said the cops _sent_ you back?"

"He was just tryin' to make sure I didn't squeal 'bout what was going on in the house. He wasn't going to hurt me or anythin', but it still scared the life outta me. This Officer Shane guy caught us and…" Beth cringed, deciding that she wanted to skip this part. She felt so guilty that she'd kept running. She should have just stopped when Daryl first called out to her, then they could have talked it through like rational people. He'd said that he would even help her escape, but after Officer Shane caught them, it didn't look like that was a possibility anymore.

She'd judged him on sight; didn't give him the benefit of the doubt, and as a result they got caught and he had to eat a few very painful looking knuckle-sandwiches. It was all her fault for thinking the worst of him.

She'd trailed off, letting Maggie take what she'd said and work out her own scenario. Across from her, the mirror hanging over the closet door looked sadly back at her. The torn neck of her shirt had traveled all the way down to her elbow again, but there was no one around to see, so she left it there. "He _was_ rough, but I didn't really give him an option."

"_Who_ was rough?"

"Daryl. He came after me." She could hear something rustling around in the background of the call.

"Okay Nick, and D-A-R-R-E-L? He got a last name?" asked Maggie.

Dixon, but she didn't want to tell Maggie that. "I got no idea—are you trying to _write_, and talk on your phone and drive all at the same time?"

"I'm pretty talented."

"Why are you writin' down names?" Beth bit her lip. Maybe she should have called Shawn instead. He was further away, and more likely to rat her out to her parents, but he didn't know any lawyers.

"You said Officer Shane?" asked Maggie.

"Officer Shane Walsh, yeah—why are you writin' down their names?"

"Just in case."

"I don't wanna sue anybody Maggie, I just wanna go home."

Maggie let out another sigh into the phone, "We got _no_ plans to sue anybody, I might scare 'em, is all. Got any more names for me?"

"Daryl's brother Merle is here, and there's a pair of cousins named Evan and Jeremiah, and another guy they called Andy."

"Okay, I'm still a ways away, traffic isn't great—but I'm coming as fast as I can."

After they hung up, Beth didn't know what to do with herself. She lay down on the bed, mind still taking her through every moment of the last hour or so. She could have stayed in the car with Leon and Luke, or she could have stopped when Daryl told her too and she might be out of here already.

She couldn't work out why she felt so bad that Daryl had gotten hurt. He'd man-handled her and it could be argued that he got what he deserved for that. She kept remembering what he'd said as he stalked away from her in the forest, "_Shouldn't've done that… shoulda just let ya run."_ There was unmistakable self-loathing in his voice that pricked her right in the heart.

He thought he was a bad person, and she'd contributed to that belief.

_Well, maybe he is a bad man._ But that didn't sit right with her. She had a gut-feeling that told her otherwise.

Her phone chirped. Without lifting her cheek from the pillow she glanced at a text message from an unfamiliar number.

_Hey Beth. Minnie still mad?_

She frowned and while still lying on her side, she texted back. _Who is this?_

_Luke. Karen left her phone in the back-seat, so I looked you up. Now you've got mine, figure you'd need it:)_

She frowned at his response. Was he trying to flirt with her? Would he really be that stupid? _I'd say Minnie hates your guts right about now. Might just kill you til your dead._

He responded almost instantly. _I ain't never been kilt before._

In spite of herself Beth smirked.

_…__You mad?_ He added after a few more seconds had passed.

If she was being completely honest with herself, yes, mostly because anything would have been an acceptable alternative to _this_. If Leon and Luke hadn't been so spooked and had waited another sixty seconds for the girls to get in the car, then they could have made it off the street before the barricade was set up.

_Why would I be mad? Because you and your brother ditched us with a group of thugs at the first sign of trouble?_

_Well, when you put it that way…_ Luke took a long time to finish his thought. _You don't have any reason to believe me, but I wouldn't have left like that. Leon was driving. I was just in the car._

Beth couldn't think of a response to that, but she tried hard to come up with one for another sixty seconds, if only because she'd long ago learned that in silence boys would make up whatever they wanted you to say and figure you had to be thinking it.

He was quicker than her. _Still friends?_

She frowned at that. They'd met just a few hours ago, and most of that time had been pretty miserable. She would never call them friends, but she didn't want to be mean. _Sure._ Frowning at the screen and her deceptive, polite response, she tossed the phone aside and tucked her legs up to her chest.

* * *

The sun was setting at his back as Daryl approached the back door of number 693 Kelly Jo Ave. He peeked in a couple of windows, just rapidly enough to determine that he might have gotten lucky this time. It didn't _seem_ like anyone was home, and if they were, they were in the bedrooms, making no noise, maybe tucked-in early.

He checked the back-door and found it unlocked. Quietly, he slid it open, hesitating to check that all was clear before he stepped inside. The house was quiet, impeccably clean and organized. Though the mere location gave away a more depressed economic state, this family apparently went out of their way to disguise that, at least in the décor.

The gentle ticking of a clock on the mantelpiece was the only sign of life or movement. He noticed a couple of pictures up on the walls, a tall, solid man with a somber expression stood either right beside or right behind a nice looking woman with short grey hair and a soft, forced smile. They had a little girl, who looked happier the younger she got in the family pictures. The most recent photos showed a gangly, young teenager with an unmistakable tendency to hide behind her own hair.

It was possible that the entire family was out, and got barricaded from their home for the time being, but still, he was quiet, just in case they were simply in their bedrooms. He wanted to hear them before they heard him. He found the laundry unit just outside the kitchen, in the hallway. He opened the Maytag, but unfortunate for him, Nick's neighbor was too organized and on top of the house-work to have left anything behind. He was going to have to check bedrooms.

He crept up the stairs, testing his weight on each step to make sure it wouldn't creak. Unlike Nick's place, this house was in fairly good repair. It had been made cheaply, but bit by bit, someone was trying to fix it up. At the top of the stairs he froze as music started to play from one of the rooms.

It was a cell ringing, a moment later it stopped and a voice said, "Hello? Ed, I thought you'd be home by now…" the voice on the other line was so loud that Daryl could hear him, but could only make out a couple of cuss words jumbled in. "…I don't know anything about that," said the woman, unmistakably wounded. "No! I don't," she defended herself meekly, "I was just helping Sophia with her homework, and then I thought I'd write a letter—Yes, I did hear the sirens, but they stopped, I didn't think it concerned—"

Daryl identified the room where the woman was talking on the phone and ducked into another one that seemed most likely to be the master-bedroom from where it was situated. He was right.

Wanting to get out as quickly as possible, he quietly slid open the second drawer of the dresser and pulled out the first t-shirt on top of a pile of freshly folded laundry. It was just a simple grey top, but it looked to be the right size. Daryl reached into his pocket, dismissing his brother's voice in his head, telling him it was stupid to try and pay for something he'd stolen.

Eight crumpled dollars came loose from his pocket and he dropped them on top of the clothes in the drawer, then gently started to slide it shut.

"—You're completely right, Ed. I'm sorry," the woman's voice drew closer. Positive that she was heading into the bedroom, and that he wouldn't be able to shut the drawer quietly in time, Daryl ducked into the bathroom.

The woman entered the room a split second after the door shut. He heard her exhale as she sat down on the bed.

"_What'd you say to me?"_

"I just sighed Ed," she said wearily.

The voice on the other end said, _"Now, I know you ain't sassin' me."_

He ground his teeth and checked the window, but the drop was too high from the second floor, and he wasn't at peace with the idea of breaking himself on the concrete patio below.

"I'm sorry," said the woman.

Ed's voice had lowered enough that Daryl couldn't make out his side any more, but after a few seconds he heard the woman say, "I'm just going to go to bed. Sophia's already asleep."

He waited a few more minutes in silence, his options wearing thin. Between being discovered trapped in her bathroom or possibly having the chance to explain himself to her in the bedroom, he decided to at least try and get out on his terms. If she freaked, he would just have to make a run for it. Wouldn't be the first time.

Resigned to his fate, he wondered if he'd be arrested for breaking and entering as his first official black-mark. It was more appropriate than attempted rape, seeing as how breaking and entering was something he was legitimately guilty of. Slowly, he opened the bathroom door without sound and stepped out.

The thin, grey-haired woman was lying, curled up on her side on top of the sheets, her back was to him, but after he took a step, he noticed her tense up and a second later she lifted her head and saw him standing there, a shocked, fearful expression on her face.

He held up his hands in a way that he hoped she would find non-threatening, and took advantage of her momentary silence by having the first word, "I'm just robbin' you," he cringed a immediately after the explanation left his mouth, as he decided that didn't actually sound very good. "I just need this, okay?" he held up the shirt.

With her eyebrows knit she looked between the shirt in his hand and his face, mouth still hanging open.

"It's a… there's a girl a few doors down. Stuck here 'cause of the barricade. Shirt got all ruined and she needs somethin' to wear, so I stole this, left a couple of dollars." He muttered rapidly.

"You could've asked?" said the woman, frown deepening as her face darkened with suspicion.

Sheepishly, Daryl nodded. In truth, it never would have occurred to him to _ask_. He figured she'd say no.

She got up out of bed and went to the still partially-open drawer, pulling the money out in a crumpled handful. She walked up to him and forcefully put it back into his hand. "A minute," she murmured as she stepped into her closet. She went to the very back and returned with an airy green blouse. In one swift movement she snatched the grey shirt away and gave him the other one to replace it. "Can't wear this one, anyway. My husband doesn't like it."

Daryl examined the soft material with his rough fingers and nodded, "Thanks," he grumbled.

"Come on," with an aggressive gesture, she showed him out of the bedroom.

Once they were back downstairs she turned automatically towards the front door.

Daryl whistled, then pointed to the back of the house, once she'd turned to look at him. This earned him an extra glare. "You are _far_ too comfortable about breaking into other people's homes," she mumbled in disapproval. "That's what I get for leavin' my door unlocked," she added in a grumble.

He paused at the back door before leaving, "Thanks again…"

"Carol."

"Thanks Carol. Just um…" it wasn't his business, but for some reason he felt a tug, urging him to say something, "You gotta look out for your little girl." He looked at his feet, "Get her outta here, if that's what's right. Kids like her… need somebody to look out for 'em."

Her face was sickly white, her mouth a dangerous, thin line. "Get out of my house." She said quietly.

He nodded and turned away without another word. _Fair enough. _Actually, fair enough would have been shooting him, but he was grateful that she didn't. He didn't know what had driven him to open his mouth anyway. He wasn't usually chatty. It was bad enough that he broke into the woman's home and invaded her privacy, calling her out on something that wasn't any of his business… He shouldn't meddle.

Then again, Carol's daughter might feel differently about that. He ought to know.

Through the window on the far side of the house he could see Beth tucked up in the bed, eyes closed, though he didn't think she was sleeping. She didn't look restful in the least, her jaw was clenched tight and her hands were in a vice-grip around her knees. He looked down at the shirt, which he was still clutching in one hand, then back at the girl.

He could already tell it was going to look nice on her.

* * *

Beth never would have been able to sleep in the unfamiliar bed of a drug-dealer anyway, but she pretended for a while. It didn't work as anything more than pretend, however, because every time she heard anything from within the house—a boisterous laugh or a scream or raised pitch out of the television, or if anyone walked too close to the door, she tensed up all over again, losing any of the slack that might have started to slowly unwind itself out of her as her body stayed still.

She heard Nick talking, it sounded like he was one a phone-call. He lingered just outside the door for a while and she was able to catch a few incriminating phrases that said Nick was perhaps in a position to make a good amount of money very soon. She heard the stairs creak as he moved up to the second floor of the house. After that, the main floor seemed to get louder.

Finally, when she heard shouting from the kitchen, she decided that she needed to make sure nothing else had happened, and that her friends were okay. She opened the door just a crack.

"I leave for twenty-minutes and y'all let it go to shit!" Daryl shouted from the kitchen.

"Oh come on, man, we're just having a lil' fun," Evan laughed.

"How could ya let 'em do this?" Daryl demanded.

"Do I look like the damn babysitter to you?!" Merle defended himself.

"You look like an asshole 'bout to get himself strung up on charges, _again_!"

Beth poked her head into the kitchen and found Merle and Jeremiah sitting at the table with a deck of cards. Evan and Andy were standing in the doorway of the living room, looking at them in disbelief. Daryl stood just on the other side of the table, a jumble of green fabric in one hand.

"Daryl's got a point," said Jeremiah darkly, "You seem to be oblivious to the fact that there's about forty cruisers surrounding us, right now… Nick's gonna be pissed." He added, and tossed his eyes upwards, indicating the mysterious second floor, where Nick could still be heard pacing around, talking on his cellphone. Jeremiah threw a card to Merle. "Why don't you two join us in here—"

"But the girls—"

"They'll be fine in their own in there for a minute. I wanna chat. Sit down." Jeremiah spoke so firmly that Evan's jaw set, all amusement gone from his face. Reluctantly, he sat down at the kitchen table and Andy followed suit.

"Best hope the cops don't decide to drop by," muttered Daryl, without directly looking at her, he tossed the green fabric her way. She caught it against her shoulder and pulled back to look at it.

"Happy birthday," Daryl offered in a growl, still without looking at her.

It was a green blouse, and it was actually pretty. Where had he gotten it? "Thanks," she said, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Merle was looking back and forth between them with the smallest twitch at either side of his lips.

She didn't see Minnie or Karen so she moved swiftly over to the living room, already she had a bad feeling about what the men had been talking of. Minnie and Karen were grinning like idiots on the ground, with their backs up against the couch. She recognized the over-bright flash in their eyes and sighed inwardly. They were high.

"Now—Evan, I'm not sure I'm gonna want you hangin' out with my daughter, ya seem to be a bad influence on the young lady," she heard Merle say as she walked swiftly back into the bedroom to change out of her ruined shirt and into the one Daryl had mysteriously found. She tried not to think about it. It was sweet of him to care enough to do something and she ought to just take that for what it was.

Quickly, she stripped out of her ruined shirt and pulled the green one on. It actually fell nicely over her figure. She took a second to adjust the sleeves in the mirror. When she stepped back into the hallway she found Daryl, standing alone, leaning against the staircase, wearing a sour expression as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

She hesitated a minute, standing right in front of him. His left eyebrow was cut. It was just the tiniest mark, from when the skin had split open while Shane was pummeling him. He didn't look up at her right away, and seemed wrapped up in his thoughts; trying to get a grip on himself.

"Thank you," her voice was barely audible, but it was hard enough to say anything to him.

He looked up at her then, but it was still through his hair, one shoulder raised and lowered rapidly as he grunted. "S'my fault. I was bein' a right bastard."

She shook her head, feeling her eyebrows rise, "You weren't," she argued, "I shoulda stopped when you told me to—"

"No," he cut her off harshly, his voice practically a snarl. She could hear in his voice a little hesitancy as he tried to soften his tone, but couldn't quite manage. There was still a lot of gravel in his words when he added. "You did exactly what ya oughta've done."

Silently, she didn't agree with him, but at the same time, she could tell what he was trying to say.

He scuffed at the ground with his feet, "You… Office Shane… ya did right. I was the only one who was outta line." He lifted the back of his hand to his head, rubbing at the broken skin above his eye.

"You were just trying to protect everyone," she shrugged.

"Don't matter what I was _tryin'_ to do," he muttered, "Gotta take responsibility. And I mean what I said," he added with that razor-bite back in his voice, "Always run, from any sumbitch, might have mischief on his mind. Ya got no reason to trust me." He pinned her with his gaze. There was guilt there, but he wanted her to know that he was serious.

It was true. Was it true? She felt like he was being too hard on himself, but couldn't find the words to reassure him. His eyes were intense and steady on her face, it made her face burn after just a few seconds and automatically she shifted her own gaze to look at his injured eyebrow instead. "I can't believe he beat you like that," she murmured.

Daryl nearly smirked. She hadn't expected that. "S'the right thing to do. I don't mind takin' a few misaimed licks if it means that actual rapists get what's comin' to 'em. You can feel a little safer knowin' there are _some_ lawmen like Officer Shane, who know exactly what to do with bad men."

"But you ain't really like that…" she hadn't meant for her voice to flex upwards, but it was such an uncomfortable topic for her. She knew what it had looked like Daryl was trying to do to her when Officer Shane saw them, but she didn't want to say it out-loud. It sounded like she was asking him a question, and she wasn't sure how to fix it, her cheeks were hot as it was and her throat felt tight. She recalled being underneath him in the dirt, feeling his heartbeat through his breastbone against her back, it was slow and steady. He had been more or less calm. Her own rhythm was painfully fast. The image that came to mind was a bird behind held in strong hands, wings helpless.

"What doya think I am?" he asked quietly.

She shrugged, wanting to look away from him. It was like he had her captive again, though this time he wasn't even touching her. "A stranger."

"Got a last name, Beth?" he grumbled.

"Greene. I'm Beth Greene."

"Beth Greene, I ain't gonna hurt you. No one here is. I'm just gonna keep an eye on ya 'til you can go be someone else's problem."

She nodded automatically, a knee-jerk response because of the sudden authority in his voice.

"And yeah, I'm a stranger. You got no reason to trust a stranger, Greene."

Finally, she was able to look away from him, shrinking in on herself a little. "Guess I don't really have a choice."

He stared at her, utterly silent as she turned away and retreated to the living room.

* * *

**Thanks for reading everyone, I heart you guys:)**

**Where the Lonely Ones Roam - Digital Daggers**


	6. The Nightengale

**What's up followers and readers all?! **

**I've just imagined everyone collectively saying "the sky" in monotone.**

* * *

Her Friends were alone in the living room watching vats of blood on-screen and wearing ridiculous smiles.

"You're so pretty, you've got pretty boobs," Karen reached out and pressed her palms firmly against Beth's chest. "They're all perky and soft and I like how they're smaller than mine. Makes me happy."

"Uh, huh," Beth gently took a hold of her hands and encouraged her to keep them to herself as she crouched down in front of where he friends were sitting on the floor, "What'd ya take?" she checked Karen's pulse. It was racing and there was a little bit of sweat on her forehead.

Both girls just started giggling, "Nothing, we're good girls," said Karen with mock innocence.

"Just like you—you're my hero Beth—err, my _shero_!" Minnie's over-bright eyes went wider than Beth had ever seen them.

Beth groaned inwardly and started to stand up, but Merle appeared beside her, offering her a bottle filled with water, which was exactly what she'd been about to go retrieve from the kitchen. "Thanks," she muttered, then turned back to the girls, "It's a hot night. You each gotta make sure you take a sip from this, every couple of minutes, okay?"

"We gotta share?" Minnie stuck out her tongue in disgust.

Karen mirrored her and slowly started to move in until she licked the side of Minnie's face which made them both break out into frantic giggles again.

"I love you," Minnie wrapped her arms around Karen who buried her face deep in her friend's neck.

"Uh wuboo," was Karen's reply.

"E ain't _my_ personal drug of choice, but I understand the appeal," said Merle casually; he took a seat on the couch behind the girls, spread out to cover an amount of space that would have been sufficient for at least three people.

"Karen, your turn—take a sip," said Beth, ignoring Merle.

Karen was smiling so big that the water dribbled over her lips and down her chin as she tried to take a drink.

"So, how'd ya get my brother to go shoppin' for you?" Merle glanced into the hallway where she'd left Daryl a few minutes earlier.

Quickly, Beth looked up, but the hallway was empty now. She couldn't see where he'd gone. "I didn't," she shrugged.

"Hum," Merle watched her in silence for a moment as she tried to coax Minnie into taking a sip of the water bottle that Karen had contaminated. "Like feedin' a toddler, ain't it?" Merle chuckled, and she met his eyes.

"Well, good thing I'm here to be a _babysitter_," said Beth.

"Ya know, dollface, we ain't gonna let anything bad happen to your friends."

"Something _already_ happened," Beth pointed out quietly.

Merle rolled his eyes, looking a bit like Daryl as he scoffed, "Ain't nothin' I can do about _this_," he gestured to them, "They wanna party, it's their American right. I'm talking about the bad scenarios. I'm talking about what's goin' on in _your_ pretty lil' head. Ain't gonna be none of that 'round here tonight. Just a couple of dumb girls trippin' balls while the rest of us contain ourselves all gentleman-like, 'til they're allowed to be poured in some car and taken home safe to those responsible for 'em."

"You can speak for yourself, but you can't speak for _them_," she said quietly, eyes darting toward the kitchen, where it seemed the men were starting a poker game.

"I can't speak of their volition, none, 'tis true doll," he shrugged, "But I can tell ya right now—not on my watch, and not with my brother 'round. Even Nick can be counted on to be an honest villain when it comes down to it."

"He's a drug dealer. He makes money off keepin' other people weak," Beth murmured, glancing up out of habit. Nick was still on his phone-call on the second story.

A particular frown flickered across Merle's face and his eyebrows knit for a split second, like he'd never thought of it that way before. He shook the expression free in seconds, "All the same, your friends ain't in any peril… 'sides, I thought you'd washed your hands of 'em? I saw you let out over the fence. My baby brother tore after ya like a demon. The film ain't more interestin' or entertaining than watching that boy fly—lemme tell ya."

She froze, her shoulders slumping a little. Gradually, she looked up at him, shame burning in her cheeks. He and Daryl were so different, but in some respects she was starting to pick up on the traits that they had in common. Like how they both had the ability to make her reexamine her own actions and see what a jerk she could be.

"_No_," Karen said suddenly and made Beth jump, she hadn't realized that either of her friends were still paying attention, "Beth is still here. Leon and Luke _left_."

"They're so funny," said Minnie.

Merle hadn't made a thing of it, but he knew that Beth tried to run for it.

"_They_ wouldn't come," Beth said weakly.

"Nah, I imagine they wouldn't," Merle shrugged, "Like I said though, it don't make much of a difference, either way. Ain't nothin' bad gonna happen to your friends here."

All the same, Beth had discovered a new reason to beat herself up about trying to run off. "Woulda been wrong to leave 'em like this."

"Nah, not if they're in good hands, which they are," all the mocking and playful slid out of Merle's voice for a moment and she realized that when he wasn't wearing a grin, his face rested in a natural expression of deep sorrow. His eyes were heavy, his mouth turned down on its own unless he forced it to do otherwise. "I know precisely what it's like to be flyin' high and…" but he cut himself off with a chuckle in the back of his own throat, brushing off the seriousness, "I've got empathy, dollface, that's all I'm sayin'."

"Empathy for druggies?"

"Your friends are hardly _druggies_. But, yeah, sure…" he offered with a nod.

"Beth, you should watch the movie, it's really good," said Minnie vaguely, she leaned her head back against Merle's leg. He bumped her with his foot just enough to get her attention and she swiveled her neck around smiling up at him, "Hi," she said dreamily.

"Hey there gorgeous," he flashed her a grin.

"You ain't my _real _daddy," she told him, looking pensive.

"Sure I am."

Beth rolled her eyes at the pair of them while Karen started laughing into thin air again.

"Now, I'ma stay with the girls and watch this… stirring film," Merle frowned at the screen, "_babysit_ the babes for a while. Ya take these," he groaned as he lifted up off the couch, just enough to dig into his pocket. He pulled out a small butterfly closure in wax paper and a pre-wrapped alcoholic swab, and slapped them into Beth's palm, "Go get my brother to stop bein' such a pussy and take care of that eye. The man practically bit my fingers off when I tried to play Florence Nightingale. Somehow I think it'll go over a little better coming from the likes of you."

* * *

Before she could get to Daryl, Beth had to pass through the kitchen, where Jeremiah, Andy and Evan were playing with the deck of cards. Neither Andy nor Evan looked particularly like they were enjoying themselves. Jeremiah had a smirk on his face that wouldn't quite wipe off. He was still wearing it when he looked up and watched her crossing toward the screen-door, to check if Daryl was outside. She hadn't heard him go upstairs, so it seemed like the next logical place for him to hide.

Sure enough, Daryl was sitting with his back pressed into the siding of the old house, arms propped up on his knees and a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. When she appeared on the stairs, his eyes swiveled in her direction and she held up the butterfly closure and swab that Merle had given her, so that both he and Jeremiah could see it and know what she was there for.

Daryl snorted and took a drag on his cigarette.

She stepped out of sight of the kitchen and sat down cross-legged, close enough to Daryl that she could get to his eye. She paused a moment, wondering if she should wait for an invitation, or say anything, or if she ought to just bandage him up without his permission.

He released a winding snake of smoke from barely parted lips, turning away slightly so as not to send it directly into her face. It put his head at the wrong angle for her, his injured eye tilted out of her reach again. She ripped the swab open, then tentatively reached up and encouraged him to look back at her with one hand under his chin.

She half-expected him to snap at her again, or fight her, or even ignore her completely, but instead he obeyed the gentle pressure of her fingertips. His eyes stayed fixed away from her face as she dabbed at his eyebrow with the swab. "It ain't as bad as it looks," she noted quietly.

"Oughta write a song about tonight, that's what you can call it," grumbled Daryl, "_Ain't as bad as it looks_."

She grinned, biting her lip for a moment, as she struggled to let it go, but finally decided that she couldn't, "Where'd you find the shirt?" she tried to sound casual.

"Lady, a few doors down."

"…Did you steal it?" She braced herself, sure he'd be offended at the accusation, but if he was, he didn't show it.

"Almost. She gave it to me, in the end," he took one last drag on his cigarette then smothered it out on the concrete ground.

"That's good," she murmured.

"If I had stolen it, what would you say?"

Honestly, she couldn't be sure. She'd like to think that she would have tried to return it to her, but in the end Beth simply shrugged. "I dunno. It was nice of you, either way."

"Don't get accused of that often," muttered Daryl, he held still as she put the butterfly closure into place.

"There… it shouldn't scar." She smoothed it with her fingers, gingerly as she could. Then she automatically settled back down against the concrete, letting her shoulders relax. She knew she could just get up and walk back into the house now, but something held her still. It wasn't much of a conversation they were having right now, but she wanted to finish it.

Anything she might have wanted to say to him was put off by a chirp from her pocket. With a frown, she pulled her phone out to see another text from Luke.

_Just to prove what a good guy I am, I've convinced my brother that we gotta go back. Sit tight, your heroes are on their way._

With a harsh exhale and a roll of her eyes, Beth dropped her phone in her lap. Daryl was watching her, with a question on his face that she felt sure he wouldn't ask, so she spared him the trouble.

"Apparently, Luke and Leon are comin' back."

Snorting, Daryl glanced at the ash mark on the concrete, like he regretted putting his cigarette out so quickly. "You got a whole hell of alot of confidence in those two idiots?"

"No. They won't be able to get through," she sighed again, just as her phone let out a second chirp.

_You should let me take you out sometime as an apology._

"How is that an apology?" she asked out-loud. "Can you believe him?" She flipped her phone around so he could read what Luke had sent her. It was the kind of thing that she would normally do with Minnie or Karen at school when someone texted her something funny or rude or unbelievable. For a split second it didn't even occur to her that Daryl was a grown man with zero interest in the personal lives of high school kids.

Interested or not, Daryl scanned the message briefly.

Feeling a little embarrassed, Beth abruptly pulled her phone back, already regretting that she'd shown it to him.

Daryl's mouth drew into a little snarl as his lip curled. "Holy shit. You ain't gonna take him up on that, are ya?"

"Uh, no," she said in a small voice, a little stunned that he did care.

"Good," he spoke so sharply that it stole a few words she'd planned to throw in, just to expand on all the reasons why 'no' was her answer. For a moment they hung in an uncomfortable silence. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the screen of her phone.

Looking at it, she remembered what she'd been thinking she should tell him. "I called my sister… I was supposed to meet her up the road a ways. Now, she's coming here—wants to talk to the cops."

Once corner of his mouth pulled into a pained grimace.

"I don't think there's anything I could say to stop her, if I tried," she defended herself in a wavering voice. The truth was, she still wanted her big sister, had actually been thinking greedily about how Maggie coming to rescue her meant she'd have her a few hours earlier than planned to be with her. They would get more time to catch up over the weekend.

For his own part, Daryl seemed to take what she'd said at face value. If he detected any guilt in her tone, he didn't show it. "She gonna try and talk 'em around?"

"She works with lawyers… she's always been pretty good at making people see her point, but since she started this job," Beth laughed, "It's gotten worse."

"Good luck to her… but I dunno," Daryl narrowed his eyes into a glare at the back fence, "There's at least three houses on this street where the cops have a reason to arrest someone. Maybe there's more to this than just 708. Maybe they're lookin' to put things in order, while they're in the area."

"_Three_ houses? What's the other one?"

"The lady who gave me that," he cocked his head at her, "Husband's a dick. Heard a little bit—sounds like he was arguing with the cops. He might be someone they've been lookin' to take in for a while."

Beth shivered at that. She didn't understand how all this worked, but what he was saying made a kind of sense. The cops might already know more about what was going on at this house and others in the neighborhood. They'd probably at least be keeping their eyes open while they were around, waiting for the residents to slip up.

"You'd do better stickin' to your original plan," with that, Daryl got to his feet rather suddenly, "C'mon. 'Nough time has passed, and it's getting harder to see." He started to walk towards the back fence, but stopped when she didn't follow him. He shifted his weight to glance back, not quite at her, but in her direction. "Get a move on, Greene. You wanna leave, don't ya?"

She blinked at his face. Still he wasn't meeting her eyes. "You're still gonna help me leave?"

"Well, yeah. We couldn't go right back, Officer Shane was still all hot-headed and stalking around, on red alert. Had to give it a few minutes for him to cool off and busy himself with somethin' else. 'Sides that, it's a lot easier under cover of night."

He was really going to help her to leave, her mouth hung open, she tried to think of something to say but it only came out as a kind of low gasp.

Daryl shrugged, "We'll keep an eye on your friends. Don't gotta worry 'bout them."

She wouldn't. After her conversation with Merle—though he wasn't what she would have ever considered upright before tonight—she felt confident that Minnie and Karen would be watched over. She stood up slowly, glancing back at the house, but she had everything, besides her ruined shirt, which she'd left on the floor of Nick's room. She took a few rapid steps right up to Daryl and stopped short.

Finally, he looked at her, eyes getting caught on her face. She'd noticed before, that his eyes were blue, but it wasn't until just now that she appreciated what a perfect color it was on him. The sheen from the dusk light set them off in the perfect way to emphasize their quiet intensity. For the first time, she was able to look into his face directly without a drop of apprehension. He was a stranger, and not like anyone else she'd ever met, but he was a decent man, whatever he believed about himself.

Awkwardly, she slipped her arms around his waist. He stiffened at first and she thought he might step out of her reach, but he didn't. "Thanks," she murmured, with her cheek pressed into his shoulder.

Tentative but not unwilling, his hands slowly rested against her bare arms, just above her elbows in a grip that was so relaxed and gentle, she started to feel like no matter how much time passed, he wouldn't push her away, but wait for her to step back. Listening to his heartbeat in her head again, she took note of her own picking up pace. Unsure whether it was simply an echo of the last time, she took a deep breath to steady herself, taking in a lungful of air that smelled like smoke and the woods themselves.

Remembering that _she_ probably smelled like farm animals and a stranger's laundry detergent, she stepped back.

His face might as well have been carved from stone. He didn't say anything, whether tongue-tied or simply not feeling like there was any need to speak, she couldn't be sure right off. But from the way he still didn't seem to be breathing, she could guess that it might be the first one. The blue in his eyes was steadily being overwhelmed by black; his pupils were dilated. She'd rendered him speechless; turned him into a statue.

She hadn't meant to do that, but now that she could see that was exactly what she'd done, she took a little pride in it, privately. She tucked her hair back behind her ear, feeling hot in the cheeks, and stepped around him, ready to jump the fence again.

* * *

After she hugged him, Daryl had to take a moment to collect himself. He was confused, more than anything. His head a mess of fog as his nails dug into his palms. He knew, without having to consider any other option that she didn't mean anything more than that little whispered '_thanks_' by the gesture. She was just one of those people who… showed affection and shit. He'd always known they still existed, he just hadn't seen one up close in a good long while.

It made perfect sense that she might be a hugger, he could handle that. That she'd hug _him_ left him baffled, and that he'd actually received it was even harder for him to swallow. At first, he might have been able to shrug it off as an awkward moment that he simply had to endure to avoid hurting her feelings, but if that had been the case, he would have just felt nervous and annoyed.

There was more to it than that. An ache in the middle of his chest and a tightening in his throat let him know just how long it had been since anyone offered him the smallest token of appreciation like this. The sweetness of her voice smacked him right in the mouth, rendering him mute, while her warm little body right up against his, made him melt, until he felt warm himself.

As was typical, his brother's loud, obtrusive opinion burst through these good feelings within seconds of the girl disappearing over the back fence. _You've gotta get laid, brother. Solitary deprivation ain't healthy._ _You're just hard-up, livin' like some kinda monk._

Daryl didn't have to make any effort to get Merle's voice ringing in his head—he knew him too well and spent too much time having to listen to him. As a result, it was difficult to put the thought away, but some quiet, underfeed counterpoint raised its hand from the back of his mind and said firmly, _It_ _ain't that simple, Dixon. _It snapped him out of his stupor as quickly as he'd fallen into it. He realized he'd been standing stock-still where she left him. He cleared his throat, squared his feet and took the fence with the help of a short sprint.

When he landed on the other side she was texting on her phone again. With a twinge of annoyance he wondered if it was that asshat boy she was responding to.

She glanced up at him, and perhaps revealing that she could read his mind she said quickly, "I'm letting my sister know that we're trying to get me out again. She won't like it but…" Beth shrugged as she put her phone into the back pocket of her jeans.

"Come on, we should keep to the east while the sun's still setting, away from the road. Once it's dark 'nough, we can work out a plan," out of habit his eyes scanned the ground around them.

He hadn't gotten much of an opportunity to assess these woods the last time. He'd been too focused on getting Beth back to the house and then too riled up during their return trip. Now, he sheepishly noticed that last time they'd fallen right into the main trail leading back to the road. Clearly, the residents of Kelly Jo Ave occasionally came back here; a number of paths all merged together, putting them vulnerable right in sight of the road. No wonder Officer Shane had seen them.

"It's kinda overgrown," Beth noted as she followed him into the wilder terrain to the east of the beaten path.

"Uh huh."

"Wait—just a minute, I'm caught on something."

He turned around to find her ripping her way free from a thorny bush. There was some deconstruction on her skin-tight jeans, and the frayed edge had gotten snagged. She sucked at her thumb where a thorn had pierced her, but didn't seem bothered. Why would she? He reminded himself that she _was_ a farmgirl, more or less used to flora and fauna.

They were taking the long way around to avoid being seen, and having to move at a subdued pace to account for the uneven ground. They'd neared the road in minutes during their little race earlier that evening, but getting there the smart way turned into a short hike.

"Why'd you say that this woman's husband was a dick? What'd he do?"

"Mmm," suddenly uncomfortable again, Daryl thought about ignoring her, he could just tell her that they needed to be quiet in case anyone was around. Before he could decide, a squirrel ran across their path and up onto the trunk of a tree, out of habit he froze, and reached behind his back for his crossbow—which he knew full well was miles away in the garage of the little shack where he'd left it.

"What was that? You a hunter?" she asked as the squirrel's ears perked up and it scampered away.

Definitely a mind-reader, this one. "Yeah. Forgot what I was doin' for a second."

"Do you hunt for fun or…?"

"Don't really do nothin' for fun," he grumbled.

"Oh."

For a moment it looked as if he'd managed to side-step answering any questions about Carol and her asshole husband without having to outright tell the girl to shut up. They continued on in quiet for a few more minutes as the sunset deepened to a vibrant orange, but eventually, Beth got around to interrogating him some more.

"So, what did you see? At the other house?"

He swallowed, but after a few minutes of silence he'd had the chance to think of careful words that he didn't mind imparting on this subject. "I dunno, maybe nothin' but there were signs… Kinda seems like he ain't all that kind to his wife and his daughter." Determined that this was all she'd get out of him, Daryl turned his attention back in the direction of the road. Pausing, he lifted an arm to stop her and listened, but they were still very much alone with the trees. The road was a ways away.

"Oh," once again, she seemed to understand what he wasn't saying. "…I guess, bein' a hunter you've gotta know how to see things that other people don't."

He felt his brow lower as he turned back to face her. In contrast, Beth was all wide-eyed innocence, but there was still unmistakable understanding in her expression.

A little pink came into her cheeks and she glanced at the ground between them. "My grandfather was horrible to my dad when he was growing up. He took off, first chance he got. But he's… well, he's the best dad in the world, in my opinion. Completely biased as it is," she added with a giggle, her color deepening to cherry.

"What're you tryin' to say?" he heard how low his voice had gotten; a layer of gravel scraped the words. He couldn't suppress the anger that she'd sparked, as harmless as she was trying to be, he couldn't help but think that she was taking stabs at him; she was getting dangerously close to the heart.

She seemed to realize her mistake, and took a moment to speak, letting her words drop slowly off her lips, which Daryl found himself watching closely; her mouth was pink and wet and trembling slightly as she defended herself. "Just that… that little girl could be okay. My dad was."

There weren't just talking about no little girl, but Daryl made an effort to appreciate that she was trying to pull back and spare him. He'd let it stand, if only because he still felt bad about going off on her earlier. He didn't want to redouble his guilt by making her scared of him again. However, with an unwanted shot of concern he picked up on the fact that he'd still managed to screw that up somehow; she didn't try to speak to him again, until they were within sight of the road.

* * *

**Irrelevant Ramblings****- For us Americans, it's independence day. I've gotten loads of questions recently from friends about our methods of celebration, and while I can't speak for all Americans, I'm going to celebrate by lying beside a pool in a bikini, eating too much, and maybe finding a friend who actually has television so I can enjoy some of this Walking Dead marathon. Oh, and there will be fireworks, and possibly some straight-up fire.**

**Relevant Ramblings****- I've been tentative about giving timeline details, because I did so little pre-writing before I started posting the story. If I slow down and there's more than a few days between updates, then I'm sorry and I'll try to snap out of it quick. There's a new project at work and I'll have longer hours, which means less time to write (or more time, if I'm being naughty...) **

**I want to finish this LONG before I go back to school end of August... for obvious reasons. **

**But to be clear, this is going to be another novel-length one from me. Maybe not a terribly long novel, but I'm guessing it'll go well past 70K words. 70K would be my low guess. It's also going to cover a longer period of time chronologically, than just this night when they first meet. I'm one of those nerds who writes with outlines, and this one is pretty detailed up to about 80%, after that, it gets somewhat spare. Might need encouragement.**

**Very Nervous and Love - J Mascis**


	7. Suits

**Hope everyone had a sweet weekend!**

* * *

He wasn't a stranger anymore.

Whatever had changed between the minute she'd said those words to him and their silent march through the wood, she couldn't be sure. As the last of the orange sunset wrapped around them, she was struck with the sudden realization that she'd never felt safer. She was at the mercy of a rough redneck, a criminal, someone she'd just met who shouldn't have any reason in the world to care what happened to her. If the police dragged her into the tank and her life was ruined because of some stupid adolescent mistakes—it wouldn't be his fault or his problem, but for some reason he was taking it on himself to look out for her.

She never would have felt safe being alone with someone like that, if he were a stranger.

Daryl wasn't like anyone she'd ever met. He was like a few men she'd _imagined_ before; he smoked and swore and though she hadn't seen any evidence of it yet, she'd be willing the lay down money that he had at least one tattoo. He probably had a million fascinating stories, but getting him to speak to her wasn't easy, and it seemed, it was hazardous.

She hadn't even realized what she was saying until it was too late to backtrack. It was clear from his reaction that she'd hit a nerve, talking about the abuse that her father suffered at the hands of her grandfather. She wished she'd kept her mouth shut.

That's what she was trying to do now. She chewed on her lip, staying in his footsteps. He was noticeably more comfortable in the woods than at Nick's. Maybe that was why he'd managed to stay calm the last time they'd been out here, even when she was scrambling to get away from him, straight in the direction of badges and guns.

Abruptly, he stopped walking and turned around. She nearly walked right into him, letting out a small gasp. Gradually, he held a finger up to his lips. She hadn't realized that she'd been making any noise, but now that he drew her attention to it, she noticed how her breathing was a little labored and her movements clumsy through the underbrush.

His eyes shifted to the left. For the second time, she found her eyes stuck on his and took a few extra seconds to follow his gaze.

Through the twilight and the trees she could make out the road winding to wrap around the woods; she hadn't seen that they were getting that close. Nodding as she turned back to him, she started trying to breathe normally again. Strangely, she felt a sudden aversion to the road when she looked back at Daryl. She knew they had no reason to ever see one another after this, and that she had to leave and it might as well be sooner rather than later, but she wished irrationally that she might have gotten a little more time, maybe, at least to end things on a better note.

That was all, wasn't it?

As Daryl started to lead her around a patch of trees to a better vantage point, she caught herself staring at him. His jaw was set and strong, drawing a determined line down his neck and over his collarbone. The top buttons on his shirt had been discarded long ago, so the fabric fell open around the hollow of his chest.

Beth shook herself mentally. She shouldn't be looking at him like that… it wasn't appropriate. He was so much older than her—it was as bad as Karen's ridiculous crush on their history teacher.

She just needed to focus on some part of him that was particularly unattractive. At first she hadn't thought his face very handsome, but it was only his scowl that put her off. He was weathered, his gaze occasionally dark with a load of heavy experience. When he wasn't trying to look hard it was clear that his features were actually striking; once she'd noticed it was impossible not to see it—even when he was glowering at her.

His hands… no, that was no good either. They were nice, strong hands, rough and skilled. She couldn't think about his hands without getting into trouble. In fact, his arms and chest by extension had the same strength and definition.

Reminding herself that he smoked didn't have the repelling effect that she expected. In theory, she'd always assumed that she'd find a man who smoked disgusting. It seemed that she'd been wrong.

"C'mon," he took her arm and pulled her down to the ground with him behind the edge of the patch of trees.

"What're we doin'?" she asked in nervous undertone as she settled into the dirt next to him, trying not to let her mind wander any further.

"Might as well wait a few minutes 'til we got proper cover of darkness."

She glanced up at the sky. The air was starting to take on a bluish tint. In minutes dusk would be over. "Why uh… why'd you say that about Luke?" she cringed as soon as the question left her lips. Letting her mind wander was exactly what she was _not_ supposed to do, but she couldn't help it, she wanted to know what had made him react so strongly when she'd shown him that text asking her out. Did she want him to be jealous? Even in part?

"What?" His eyebrows dipped inwards.

"It's just…" she stuttered, feeling stupid. He had to be able to see through her. Thoroughly embarrassed she shrugged and tried to say as casually as possible, "I dunno, I just wondered if you knew somethin' about him that I didn't… and maybe that's why you don't think I should go out with him." Her voice trailed off into a whisper and she found herself looked down at her fingers, nervously tracing the dirt.

"Nah, he's just a tool," Daryl shrugged, awkwardly, as he was lying in the dirt with his arms behind his head, "You're better than that. Ya deserve better." Though he was being blasé about the question, she was sure that he was just trying to spare her feelings.

She would have done better to stay silent. He was probably running out of patience with her. He probably thought she was being immature… childish.

With another mental slap she reminded herself that it didn't matter anyway.

They were getting her out of here. She would be miles away in no time, and she would never have to try and not stare at him again.

* * *

It was going according to plan so far, except that as Daryl lay on his back in the dirt, trying to stay out of sight of the cops, Beth was leaning across him to try and get a better look. Blonde tresses dangled into his face. He caught of whiff of her shampoo and groaned inwardly. With a gruff "Humph," to get her attention he moved her hair out of his face. Then took a hold of her arm and somewhat bodily encouraged her to get down and well out of the cops' line-of-sight.

"Sorry," she whispered, eyes wide, "It's kind of exciting though, isn't it?" she grinned down at him, looking perfectly at home nestled into the dirt on her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows, like she was about to do an army-crawl.

Maybe it was exciting when it was your _first_ time sneaking past the cops. Not to mention, Daryl couldn't help but think to himself that the stakes were a little different for someone like her. Even if she got caught _again_ the chances of them being as hard on her as they would be on him were not great.

Between where Daryl and Beth were crouched in the dirt and the road where a parade of cars extended to wrap around to the other entrance of the street, there was a deep ditch. Officer Shane Walsh was speaking to two other uniforms while a forth strolled along the road, in the perfect position to keep a look out.

"Dammit, I was hopin' he'd head on back to the front," Daryl muttered.

"Officer Shane? I thought you liked him?" asked Beth.

"Asshole. I agree with him, don't mean I gotta like him," he clarified. It was difficult to like a man who'd so recently been all geared up to beat the tar out of him.

"Got it," said Beth.

"Lemme think for a minute," he closed his eyes; he'd have an easier time coming up with a strategy if the pretty teenaged girl wasn't right in front of him. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. There were even more of them than when they'd been here the last time, but there was a clearly identifiable weak-point just to their right.

Not weak enough. He groaned audibly as he realized what he was going to have to do. "Alright, here's what we're gonna do. When I say, we both book it down into the ditch, quick and quiet-like. Then we break off. I go left, you go right. Tuck yourself behind that tree until my little diversion starts."

"Diversion?" she frowned at that.

"Yeah—I'ma pretend to be drunk. Officer Shane told me I could file a complaint, so I'll just have to make it seem like I had a few too many… decided that things weren't all square. With any luck they'll tolerate me long 'nough that they won't see ya."

"But—what if they try and arrest you?"

"Never been arrested before," he admitted, "I can 'probly avoid it now, s'long as I don't do anythin' to really piss 'em off. I'm just gonna annoy and distract them for a few minutes."

"You sure?" Her brow was knitted in concern, her face had gone white, "I don't want you gettin' in trouble with the cops, on account of me."

"I've had it comin'—but like I said, I ain't gonna do nothing too disorderly."

"But—"

"When they ain't lookin', book-it across the street to the other side. There's bound to be another ditch. Don't fall, but try 'n move into it fast. Watch your ankles. From there you can follow the road without being seen by it." Wanting to get a move on before she could have a crisis of consciousness and try and stop this, he turned over to crawl into the ditch, but didn't make it more than a foot before a pair of glaring new headlights on the road gave him pause.

Beth must have seen them too, because he felt both her hands grip either of his arms from behind, urging him to come back down and hide with her. He crouched low, but stayed where he was to see what was happening, with Beth clinging to his back; her heartbeat fluttered against his shoulder.

A big black SUV with government involvement written in every fiber of the tinted windows slammed to a rough stop. Behind it a few smaller but no less official-looking sedans parked; at the very back of the procession was a golden Saturn that didn't seem to belong in this picture.

The driver's side door of the SUV opened and out stepped a tall, thin man wearing a black suit and a tie so sharp that Daryl wondered if his head could stay upright without it. He looked across the expanse to where Officer Shane was grouped with a few of the other men. With an undeniable look of recognition, Shane squared his shoulders and began to march towards the man. Other suits spilled out around them.

"The FBI?" Beth guessed out-loud into his ear and he was fairly certain she was right.

Officer Shane and the suit-in-charge were speaking to one another, both of them with their hands on their hips and their eyes fixed on the other. The tension in their shared stance was obvious. Bad blood, but they were on the same side, so he doubted it mattered much.

"There's no way we can do this," Beth whispered. "There's too many of 'em… and it looks like there might be something serious goin' on. It ain't worth it."

Once again, she was right. The new addition of federal agents to the scenery at least meant they'd have to adjust and wait a few more minutes before executing their plan. The driver of the gold Saturn had exited the car. It was a pretty woman with short brown hair, wearing a smart looking black blazer and matching skirt, but from the way she strode right up to the Officers and agents with fury in her eyes and a sharp "Hey!" on her tongue to get their attention, Daryl was pretty sure she wasn't one of them. She didn't look like she was doing her job, she looked like she was mad at them for doing _their_ job; she had to be one of the residents of Kelly Jo Ave. barred from her home, or else she was… "Damn, that ain't your sister, is it?"

"Maggie!" she hissed with an apparent note of distress. "She ignored my text," but she didn't sound surprised.

"If she talks them into coming 'round the house to get you and personally escort you out, and ya ain't there… that's gonna look all kinds of bad," Daryl automatically wrapped her under his arm to get her up to her feet with him.

She clung to his side, fingers getting tangled up in the fabric of his shirt and didn't let go until after he'd started a rapid retreat back the way they'd come. "Come on—we better hurry back."

Running at full tilt through the woods was all well and good when they were taking a beaten path, but through the underbrush it was cumbersome. He could tell that Beth was having difficulty navigating the terrain, getting snagged more often than not on thorny bushes and roots. Daryl hung back, eventually taking a hold of her wrist to help her stay upright when she started to trip. She seemed more or less comfortable in her cowboy boots, but she wasn't used to running so much in them, especially not over ground that was trying to take her down. She didn't whine, he could give her that. She was as worried as he was that they might roll into the house just in time to answer the door, panting, and greet Maggie, Officer Shane and a federal agent.

They reached the fence and without discussion he slipped both hands under her arms from behind. She let out the tiniest squeal of surprise but didn't hesitate to reach up and grab onto the top of the fence as he lifted her up to help her over. Once she had a firm grip with both hands and one leg, he backed off, letting her climb over the rest of the way by herself.

When he joined her on the other side, she was bending over, resting her hands on her knees and drawing deep breaths. It was only then that he realized that his heart was racing and that he was too winded to say anything.

It seemed that there hadn't been much reason for them to hurry. No one was kicking the door down. He met Beth's eyes. Her mouth had split into a mischievous smile that complimented the cherry color in her cheeks nicely. She let out a short giggle, relief apparent in her eyes.

Daryl exhaled, feeling his shoulders relax. He couldn't quite manage a smile, especially not when Beth looked at him like that. There was nothing the least bit humorous about that obnoxious tug in his chest.

Merle, Karen, Minnie and Evan were all outside to see their return.

The two girls were lying in the lawn, Karen stretched out across Minnie's stomach and braiding a few leaves of grass, though she'd paused to look up dreamily at her friend. Merle was seated beside them, frowning at his brother, one hand was twisted in Minnie's hair, massaging at her scalp.

Evan stood on the other side of them, arms crossed, a look of open-mouthed confusion on his mug.

"The hell? Where do you two keep goin'?" demanded Evan.

Daryl tried to think of an answer that wouldn't simply be a two-syllable expletive, but neither his mind nor his mouth wanted to work that hard.

Beth saved him the trouble by forcing out "There's—FBI," mingled with a gasp for air.

With that, all the confusion and the touch of humor that was in Evan evaporated, his countenance turned cold, business-like. "Jer," he yelled as he turned to go back in the kitchen.

Merle didn't seem at all concerned by this news. He playfully gathered a handful of Minnie's hair in his fist and pushed it over her eyes.

She giggled and shook her head, trying to get her hair back into place.

Merle was looking at the two of them with a pensive expression that Daryl didn't know to dread until he said, "Hey dollface, come here, sit with your friends. They're been trying to decide who's got prettier eyes 'atween the two of 'em, maybe you can be the tie breaker." He got to his feet heavily and strolled up to his brother, using a stalk that reminded Daryl pointedly of a cat with its claws flexing with every step, pleased with itself.

Beth glanced at Daryl, but didn't hesitate for longer than another renewing breath before she went right over to where her friends were enjoying the cool nighttime air.

Merle led Daryl just out of earshot of the girls, a heavy hand slapping a trail of dust off Daryl's leather vest. "FBI, huh?" he said and for a moment Daryl let himself have a private moment of relief. Maybe his brother was worried about the situation with the police.

"Looks to be," muttered Daryl.

"You and dollface went for a romantic stroll in the woods to spy on suits?" Merle raised an eyebrow at his brother and the sense of relief that Daryl had unwisely indulged in immediately twisted into anger.

"Y'know it ain't like that," Daryl shot at him.

"No need to be defensive," Merle held up his hands, a smirk already marring his face. "Lemme teach ya somethin' 'bout women."

"Stop," Daryl shoulders slumped, he hated it when Merle tried to teach him something about women.

"Nah, ya need to hear this, little baby brother. If she likes you, why not?"

Apparently that was it? Daryl waited in the ensuing silence, expecting more; as always his advice would be vulgar and twisted with his brother's own personal humor. It wasn't like him to be brief with his thoughts. "Ya done?"

"No, I ain't _done_," said Merle, going a little red. "Did y'even manage to get a taste of those lips, boy?"

"Don't be such a jackass!" Daryl threw his hands up, while trying to keep his voice down, but the girls were engaged in their own conversation and far enough away that it wouldn't be easy to hear any of this. "She's a _kid_, they're all kids—"

"You tell yourself that to keep a distance, but there ain't really a lot of truth to it, is there?" Merle motioned back where the girls were settled in the grass, "_Lola_, for example," he chuckled at the fake name that Nick had given Minnie. "That there is a grown-ass woman, with a comparable amount of experience and intelligence to other grown-ass women, who's birth certificates might have an earlier date, and I _know_ all that, because she is high as balls right now and she told me herself, 'cause the girl gets chatty when she's trippin'. She don't like me—'cause I'm an old, gnarly sumbitch, fair 'nough, so I keep a respectful distance—"

"Ya call _that_ a respectful distance?"

"It'd be a lot less respectful if she felt different," Merle admitted, raising his eyebrows, "'Cause that's me—but that ain't you. I'm thinkin' it outta be."

"Y'ain't making a whole lotta sense, Merle," Daryl checked his brother's eyes, but it didn't look like he'd taken anything.

Understanding what Daryl was doing, Merle's frown deepened. "She likes you. With a little coaxing you could partake of 'em favors."

Daryl swore and rubbed at his forehead, "We outta be watchin' out for these girls, not takin' advantage of 'em ourselves." He gestured pointedly towards the house, where the Andy and Evan were sitting with Jeremiah at the kitchen table.

"I'm not talking about takin' _advantage_. It ain't takin' advantage if she likes you, them's the rules." Merle grinned as Daryl's hands curled into fists. He could always be counted on to take a little pleasure in Daryl's intense discomfort. "Age of consent is sixteen in Georgia, baby brother. As long as she's willing—and I think she is—ain't nothing wrong with having her on her back, on her knees… sweetly kiss her and worship her for a few minutes, she might even feliciate your piece."

There was no talking to him. Daryl wondered why he didn't just leave _before_ they got to this point in the talk. He geared up to bolt.

Predicting what his little brother might do, Merle took a step to block his best path of retreat back into the house, "I just thought mayhaps, in spendin' a little more time together, ya might warm her up. Wet her up. Otherwise, what was the purpose of runnin' off into the woods like that?"

"Ya know me better than that, we had a reason."

"…Which was?" Merle grinned expectantly.

"She wanted to take off, figured I'd help her on her way."

"Ain't that gallant of ya."

"Shut up, Merle."

"I can tease, brother, 'cause I know it don't matter what I say to ya. You'll do it _your_ way." Merle cracked his neck, the humor starting to die as he let real frustration bleed into his final biting words to his brother, "Pretend you ain't watchin' that tight little ass sway, and then stroke yourself to ecstasy once she's outta your reach." With that, Merle marched into the house, leaving Daryl with no other option but to turn his back on the girls and lean against the fence, trying to shake off everything Merle had said.

Except, it was infinitely worse once Merle left him alone. As long as his brother was standing in front of him, he could just feel disgusted, annoyed and angry with him. Now that he was on his own with his eyes squeezed shut, there was nothing to occupy his mind but the images that Merle had put there.

Up until now he'd been more or less successful in fighting off any untoward thoughts concerning young, pretty and utterly vulnerable Beth Greene. Merle always had a way of getting under everyone's skin, including his brother from time to time, now it seemed he was actively trying to extend that ability to someone else.

_She_ was getting under his skin.

* * *

**I keep forgetting to mention, this whole 'hostage-street-lockdown' thing, while it may seem odd… is based on something that totally happened to me and some friends of mine last month. Obviously, my adventure did not include a Daryl, because that would be far too amazeballs for my life, but it did transform into a surprise!sleepover with lots of associated silliness. Instead of drugs and horror movies though, it was ice cream and Austenland, so… ya know. WAY better, in that sense.**

**I hope you guys like where I'm going with this, it shouldn't be too long at all before I have another chapter up. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and who's following/favorited the story, it keeps me motivated! You guys rock:)**

**Song of the chapter... Dangers - Big Data**


	8. Guns

**Hey followers, new and old! **

* * *

"You know what I think about when I think about your hair," said Karen with an air of one having discovered a great philosophical truth.

"I didn't know you think about my hair," Beth was still sweating and her heart pounded against the grass, but her breath had finally come back to her. She lay on her stomach next to Minnie and Karen, who seemed no worse for wear than when she'd left them.

"Like a spider that ate a golden engagement ring and then spun pretty blondy spider-silk."

"Eww, so it's like spider-poo?" Minnie made a face.

"_No_," said Karen in a shout. "I was trying to say something _pretty_, Minnie."

Beth covered her face with both her hands, laughing silently into the heels of her palms.

"Wait? Are spider-webs made out of poo?"

"I don't think so. Maybe. Professor Blake would know. He's so smart. And kinda sexy in like a grown man way."

"_Professor_ Blake? Don't you mean Mr. Blake?" Beth finally managed to stop laughing well enough to join the conversation, as ridiculous as it was. "He's not a professor, he's a history teacher. In High School."

"I know," Karen admitted, "I didn't mean to call him Professor out-loud, it's just that I always think of him as Professor in my mind. Mostly when I'm like… thinking about him…" she blushed and bit her lip.

"Karen, please," said Beth with a sigh.

"What? He's attractive."

On the far side of the lawn, Daryl was standing alone, where Merle had left him a few minutes earlier. She'd thought maybe he'd lit up another cigarette, but when he turned around she saw that he was empty-handed, head bowed. He looked troubled. Was he worried about the FBI? She tried to catch his eye as he headed into the house, but he wouldn't look her way.

When she turned back to her friends, it was to find two pairs of wide, drugged-up eyes starting at her with sparkling amusement.

"…What?"

"Speaking of older men," said Minnie.

Karen licked her lips; a kitten reaching for a few extra drops of cream.

"Don't tease," said Beth, trying to adopt a voice like her mother's, one of deep disapproval, but she was well aware that the effect was somewhat ruined by the heat in her face.

"I ain't teasin', I'm observing. He's hot—in like a redneck, biker-freak kinda way."

"He's…" Beth stopped herself short, she'd been about to say that he was nice, but that wasn't quite accurate.

Ornery. Intense. Guarded. Enigmatic. "Interesting," Beth finally settled on a word that couldn't be read into.

"So, are you saying you're interested?" one side of Minnie's mouth drew upwards.

Damn. She'd been wrong. "I'ma get ya more water," Beth started to get up to her feet.

Protesting in unison, both girls grabbed onto her.

"We're sorry!" said Karen.

"Don't leave again," said Minnie.

"I'll be right back," Beth promised.

"We won't ask you any more questions, we promise," said Karen.

"You know you're crossing your fingers _in_ _front_ of you right now, don't ya?" Beth glanced down at Karen's other hand.

Karen looked down at her hand, blinking. She grinned up at Beth a moment later, "Oops."

With an obligatory roll of her eyes she pulled away from her friends, and walked along the side of the house towards the kitchen. She passed the window into Nick's bedroom to see Merle lying on his back, taking a long drag off a cigarette and staring at the ceiling. As she approached the screen door in back she halted and held her breath as she heard Jeremiah say, "…With a cut that size, I figure it's worth it to work with 'em Mexicans. Might get tricky around the boarder, but Merle tells me you're a decent shot, if it comes down to it."

"I ain't never even been out of Georgia before," Daryl grumbled.

Beth bit her lip and hung around the side of the door, heart pounding. She wasn't well-versed in criminal activity, but she could make a couple of disturbing guesses about what they might be speaking of.

"Never? Well boy—it's high time, I'd say."

"Yeah, maybe."

"It'll probably be cake."

"Don't gotta talk me into it, Merle already said we'd do it," Daryl's voice was a surly rumble.

"You just do what he says, do ya?"

Daryl didn't respond to that, Andy and Evan's voices carried from the table where they were arguing about cheating, filling the silence for a few seconds.

"Good man," said Jeremiah, a loud clap followed, telling Beth that he must have slapped Daryl on the shoulder before his heavy footsteps pulled him away from the counter and back over to the poker game.

Tentatively, Beth leaned out from behind the side of the house so that she could see Daryl through the screen. He was leaning against the counter, eyes downcast until she came into view. His face drained of all color until she was looking at a stark white mask, with two desperately sad blue eyes. He knew she'd heard enough.

Breath catching in her throat she backed away quickly, but he was outside with her before she could take three steps. He shut the screen door behind them abruptly and advanced on her.

She groped for the words to defend herself for a moment, then felt a conviction settle in; she didn't have anything to be ashamed of, he was the one being shady. She forced herself to look right into his eyes, unblinking.

There was a lot of guilt in his face as he backed her into the siding of the house, his lips folded into his mouth for a moment before he parted them to quietly say, "Best forget all that, Greene."

Did this change anything? He'd gone from stranger to protector to something almost like a friend so quickly that she had trouble wrapping her head around it. She felt a calm assurance that she still wasn't in danger, not from him. But did it make sense? "What is it?" she asked quietly, well aware that prying would make him angry, but she didn't care. "Drugs?" she guessed what seemed most likely.

He ground his teeth together, glancing to the side as if paranoid someone might hear them. He rubbed at his face with one hand and started to shush her as she offered a second, more unsavory guess.

"It—it isn't _girls_ is it?" she felt sick to even bring it up.

To her relief, his face immediately broke into an expression of revulsion. "_Fuck…_" he whispered quietly, "No. Fuck no." He shook his head at her. "Whaduya think…?" he trailed off into a deep inhale, "Scum, maybe, but we ain't—_it's_ _guns_," he finished as she tried to interrupt him.

"Guns?" she repeated, only marginally relieved. "Ain't that _real_ dangerous?"

He started to relax. Maybe it was because she was forcing herself to be calm in the face of this discovery. It shouldn't really surprise her, but it did.

"Gotta make a living."

It was her turn to shake her head at him in disbelief. "…you do this kinda thing a lot, you and Merle?"

"Here and there," he admitted, covering any shame he might feel at his lifestyle with a hard edge.

"Ya know _why_ you ain't never been arrested, Daryl?" she asked him suddenly.

For a moment he froze and simply stared at her, then rapidly he raised and lowered both shoulders, shifting his gaze to his feet, "Just a lucky sumbitch, I guess."

She waited for him to meet her eyes again, "It's 'cause you're smart."

He snorted, but she started talking again, before he could voice a counterpoint.

"You are. You're smart. You can take care of yourself and play the police and hide from 'em when you need to—but you _ain't_ smart enough to make your own life easier by just goin' legit," she let her voice drop, briefly scanning either side of them, but the noise from the kitchen and the faraway looks on her friend's faces told her that everyone was far too wrapped up in themselves to pay her and Daryl any mind. "Forget about the guns. Don't do it. I can tell you don't wanna," she said quietly.

Daryl's regard pinned her in place so she couldn't move or speak. The observance that she'd recognized in him earlier was one thing, but for the first time she felt like he was actually digging into her—stripping her of secrets with a look. She must have gone too far again, made him feel too exposed and his knee-jerk response was to fight back the same way, "You're a farmgirl," he said flatly.

"Y—yeah," she didn't even ask how he guessed that, it would just slow them down.

"Been taken care of, your whole life—got a daddy and a momma that give you everythin' y'ever need. Yeah, you're a _rich_ farmgirl," his lip curled when he said the word rich. "Ain't never had to worry 'bout nothin' your whole life. Hell, girl—one look and I can see ya haven't just been protected; ya been _adored_." He threw up one hand and on instinct she flinched though the gesture was nowhere near her, "The hell do you know about _anything_?"

He was _not_ nice. She'd been right to skip right over that word when she was trying to describe him.

Nice? No. He was vicious, nasty, abrasive, cynical. He was also… maybe… correct. However, there was no way she was going to admit it. "Screw you," she glared at him, eye flickering briefly to his lips. "We ain't talkin' about me," she took a deep breath and wrestled her footing back. She wasn't going to let him shove her away before she'd managed to say her peace. Someone needed to say it, even if he wouldn't hear it. "You're _better _this. You deserve better."

From the way his expression immediately went stony she could tell that he recognized his own words to her, returning to slap him in the face.

"Don't ya get mad at me for tellin' you the truth," she added before he could say anything. Afraid that he might stalk off, she held onto the front of his vest, unsure precisely where she was going with this. "Don't act like you ain't got options." He was stiff under her hands, looking at her with intense unease.

Then she realized, it looked like she was about to kiss him. Clinging onto the front of him like that, head tilted back to see his face, what was she thinking? She hadn't kissed anyone since she and Jimmy broke up more than a year earlier, and this was not the right time, not the right boy—man. She swallowed and let go, hiding her hands behind her back.

His wide shoulders were rounded inward, his face averted from hers again. She wasn't sure he'd been breathing when she touched him, but now his chest expanded and contracted noticeably. He stammered in barely more than a whisper, "I don't."

It didn't take a master of deduction to figure out that Daryl didn't like being touched. Why couldn't she keep her damn hands to herself around him? "…I got one for you," it took her a moment to collect her thoughts. She was still mentally berating herself for making him uncomfortable. Again. "My dad hires extra hands from time to time to work on the farm. You bein' a hunter… they'd like that. Animals occasionally get loose, wander into the woods. Someone who could track 'em down would be real valuable. Otis can, but… he ain't exactly spry."

His face went blank, if he felt anything, from annoyance to gratitude, he was taking great pains to avoid letting her know. He looked her up and down again, more as a stall than anything else, she thought, "Ya want me to come work on your dad's farm?" he asked tonelessly.

"Why the hell not? It's better'n getting yourself killed down in Mexico over a bunch of—_guns_," she added the last word in paranoid whisper.

Almost, he managed an amused expression, but couldn't quite get there.

"You and Merle. Come on down. It's decent pay and it's honest." She wished she could read his mind. The way he was looking at her could denote fury, or that he was thinking it over in equal measure, she didn't want to just believe what she wanted to be true, she wanted to _know_ how he was feeling. "You can do whatever ya want—I ain't gonna say nothin' to the cops or anyone else—but don't go and pretend like you want _that_." She motioned in the direction of the house were the poker game was getting loud again. "It's been pretty clear since the moment I got here that you hate these guys; that you don't got no respect for them and now I think I get why."

If he had any thoughts on what she was saying, he'd decided that she wasn't going to be privy to them. His face was stuck in his same scowl, carved from stone once again. A split-second before she figured out what he was going to do, he scoffed. "I gotta take a piss," he brushed past her to go back in the house.

Digging her nails into her palms as she watched him go, Beth tried to think how she could have handled that better. _You shouldn't be handling it at all,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Maggie told her. Partially as an act of defiance against the voice she marched into the house after him, realizing the second her foot touched the cheap linoleum in the kitchen that she couldn't follow him into the bathroom, and that stalking him and waiting outside the door was hardly better. She remembered her previously abandoned task of getting more water for Minnie and Karen and went to the fridge instead.

The poker-game fell momentarily silent with her entrance. It was a warm night and all the running around she'd been doing with Daryl hadn't helped to cool her off one bit. She drained half a bottle in one gulp, then went to the tap to refill, fully intending to take it back out to the girls without saying a word to any of the men in the kitchen.

"Hey, Blondie," Evan snapped his fingers.

Automatically she looked up from the sink, somewhat angry with herself for not being able to ignore him.

"Could you pass me one of them shot glasses—Andy smashed mine," he motioned to a pile of broken glass in thick shards on the ground. "Cupboard right above your left hand, there."

She fished out the first novelty shot glass that brushed her knuckle. It was from a restaurant in New Orleans that specialized in Oysters and said _Shuck Me, Suck Me, Eat Me Raw_.

"I can't take another shot—we gotta play somethin' else," Andy groaned.

As Beth set the glass down on the table, Evan caught her wrist, "You think your friends might be up for a little strip poker?"

Jeremiah flicked his cousin's ear so hard that Beth actually heard a snap. Evan hissed and let go of Beth's wrist to clamp his palm over his ear.

"Merle and Daryl are gonna beat your ass raw if you don't stop harassing those young ladies, and I'm just gonna watch. That'll be our entertainment for the evenin', ya hear?" growled Jeremiah.

"Be _more_ entertaining to play strip poker," grumbled Andy.

"Pretty sure they've never been _that_ high," said Beth icily, but she honestly wasn't sure whether she was telling the truth or not. Minnie and Karen could get pretty raunchy, especially when they indulged in drug or drink.

Heavy footsteps from the hallway gave her pause and instead of turning to go back to Minnie and Karen, she looked to see if it was Daryl returning.

Instead of Daryl in the doorway, however, it was Nick who finally reappeared. He was holding his cellphone in one hand, looking at it with an odd, amused expression. "Did I miss anythin' exciting?" Nick asked.

"Just the usual mischief," said Jeremiah, shooting his cousin a glance that said he'd throw him under the bus in a second.

"Where ya been all evening, Nick?" Andy asked casually.

"Phone call," he held up his cell pointedly, a twisted smile growing on his lips, daring them to ask.

Finally Evan decided to take a bite, "With who?" he frowned.

"708."

For a good ten seconds no one said anything.

"Well, shit," Jeremiah finally broke the silence. "El Camino guy got anythin' to say 'bout this mess?"

"How'd he even get your number, I thought you didn't know him?" Andy furrowed his brow.

"The _hostage_ he took is a buyer of mine—she stopped in to have a chat with Mrs. 708, just in time for him to get home with about forty cruisers on his tail. He called me on her phone so we could work somethin' out." With a heavy sigh, Nick motioned to the street-side of the house, "He'll be coming outside with his hands up, right 'bout now."

Abruptly, everyone at the table got to their feet to scramble into the living room, but Beth beat them all too it. She climbed onto the couch peering through the heavy drapes over the windows to get a better look at the scene on the street. They crowded around her, widening the gap in the curtains until it might have made more sense to tear them down. Nick kept talking over the shuffling sounds of their feet against his carpet and their scrambling, "He knows there ain't no way outta this. He just wanted to see to it that someone took care of a few… household chores, while he's away." Obviously, there would be more to it than that, but Beth could tell from the expression on his face that Nick was only willing to run his mouth so much.

Through the window she could watch the scene. A man in handcuffs was being led to a cruiser, accompanied by four officers, while a small army stood watch. Once they'd loaded him into the back-seat, the street seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as one

It was over.

She could go home.

* * *

**Spoiler - It's not over.**

**First bit was super silly. I apologize, if it was too much silliness. Possible silly overload. 10 points will be awarded to the Hogwarts house of your choice if you pick up on who the history teacher is:) Speaking of which, I am going to incorporate other TWD characters as we go on, but most of them won't have more than a cameo appearance.**

**After the silly, it got sort of heavy again, but I'm afraid we'll have to hold out for full reaction shots from Beth and Daryl, because stuff is going down. Next update should be soon! Being vague, sorry, work stuff, maybe two days, maybe three.**

**Better Place (Church Song) - June Cat**


	9. Farewell Farmgirl

It wasn't the cold shower he needed, but the water from the bathroom sink was all he had to work with. He couldn't even pretend to himself that getting all warm might have something to do with humidity setting in. It was dry enough in the air outside. She had gotten him fired up, defensive. He felt sticky with guilt. She was so naïve, everything must look so simple through her eyes.

But, she wasn't stupid.

She saw things. She'd guessed about his father, damn him to hell. She'd been spot on about how he felt about Nick and his kin… about this pain-in-the-ass gun running job. She could probably pick up on other things that he dreaded thinking about; naïve or not, a girl like that had to have enough experience dealing with assholes that she could tell when a man couldn't keep it together around her.

She picked up on the details.

Farmgirl might have made a decent tracker in another life.

After losing a staring contest with the bathroom mirror he returned to the hallway, where he found his brother standing in the doorway of the bedroom. The smell of smoke was thick and Merle coughed mildly as he grinned at his brother, seeming of a mind to forget that their previous conversation had ever happened, "Got any cash on ya? I'm thinkin' we oughta pick up somethin' on the way home. Not sure how that rabbit'll sit with me."

"…On the way home?" Daryl frowned.

"By the sounds of it, situation's done resolved itself, all convenient-like." Merle shrugged one shoulder, letting his weight rest against the unprepared doorframe, which creaked. "Had to end sometime, I 'spose."

Daryl could hear voices coming from the living room, he glanced in their direction, but didn't take more than a step before Merle added, "Best say goodbye to your new friend. Shoulda done somethin' when ya had the chance."

In a futile effort to pretend like he hadn't heard him, Daryl turned into the living room without looking back at his brother. He arrived just in time to see Beth's blonde hair disappear into the kitchen at a dash. He heard the screen door open. She was going to get her friends.

"708 surrendered—they just drove off with the poor bastard," Andy informed him, slapping his hands together.

"He ain't _that_ poor," said Evan with a glance at Nick who grinned back.

"Don't be celebratin' yet, the cops are still thick in the air," warned Jeremiah. "How do you know this guy'll keep his word?"

"Relax—he's a godsend, not just to me but to you boys as well…" Nick fell silent as Minnie and Karen came into the living room. There was grass in their hair and matching smiles on their faces as they swayed to the window, hands clasped, anxious to peak outside and see some of the excitement.

Beth hung back in the kitchen. Daryl leaned to the side in order to better see her as she was rummaging through the cupboards and drawers. She snatched up a pen, testing that it could write on her other wrist with a quick swipe. She snatched up something from the table to write. He saw her bend over to scribble, but Merle turned up in the living room right then, forcing him to pull his eyes away from the girl.

"Pigs leavin' yet?" Merle asked of the room, loudly.

"So far, no. They're slow to get a move on," said Nick, clearly working hard not to appear overly concerned.

"Actually seems like there's a few more of 'em," Evan added unhelpfully.

"Leon and Luke are about twenty minutes away," Minnie told Karen, checking her phone.

"…Does it seem like those three are makin' a bee-line for the house?" asked Nick, voice twitching with renewed concern as his face fell.

"Nah, you're just paranoid—" but Jeremiah cut himself off as he leaned around Nick to get a better look out the window, "Ah, forget it, you're right. Fuck me." He rubbed at his chin and backed away from the window, letting out a narrow stream of air between his teeth. He closed his eyes, shook himself and it seemed that was all that was needed for him to get a hold of himself. "Nick, why don't ya sit on down and try not to look too weedy, okay?"

Guilt was pouring off of Nick's forehead in trickling drops, so Daryl thought that was probably a good call.

"Someone get him a drink to calm his nerves," requested Merle.

Beth obliged, grabbing a beer from the fridge as she finally came into the living room, carrying no evidence of whatever it was that she'd been so determined to write. She handed Nick the beer.

"Thank you, sha," Nick's knee was bouncing. To stop it, Andy kicked his shin at the same time that the doorbell rang.

Merle cleared his throat, approached the door, turned the knob and opened it with an "Evenin' officer, Special Agent, ma'am," so deceptively sweet and oily that it made Daryl want to laugh out loud.

"Mind if we come in?" asked the suit.

"Free country, God bless it," Merle stepped back.

Officer Shane and the suit entered the house at a leisurely pace that was clearly frustrating for the woman that followed them; Maggie Greene, Beth's older sister. The second that the men weren't in her way anymore, she burst into the house, green eyes blazing as they fell on her sister. She couldn't even seem to find the words to greet her in excitement or condemnation; she let out a kind of hiss between her clenched teeth and shook her head, face still red.

"Hey Maggie," said Beth, sheepish. "Missed ya."

Still not addressing her sister, Maggie turned and crossed her arms as she glowered up at the suit, "All I can say is that you're damn lucky he stood down. I'm still not convinced I shouldn't have the firm look into this."

"That'd be a waste of time," the suit informed her with a casual shrug, "But, hey, do what you gotta do." He then turned and nodded towards Beth, "Beth Greene?"

"Yeah," she said quietly.

"I'm Special Agent Rick Grimes, I understand there was an incident involving you earlier this evening—just wanted to make sure you're okay?"

Suddenly feeling defensive again Daryl spoke before he could think better of it, "Kinda seems like that ain't the business of no FBI."

It was like someone hit the pause button on the entire room for a good ten seconds. The whole house was riveted. He half expected one of the drugged-up girls to laugh, just to ease the tension, but even they were stalk-still. Every pair of eyes watched Agent Grimes for a reaction, unblinking… except for Daryl and Maggie who were watching each other.

He half expected her to walk right up and clock him in the face. He couldn't be sure what held her back. Maybe it was the presence of the lawmen, or maybe it was the black and blue evidence that Officer Shane had already beat her to it. In any case, Beth's sister hated him.

"You must've been the gentlemen involved," Agent Grimes gave Daryl a sweeping once-over, pointedly fixing his eyes on the butterfly-closure above his eye.

"It was nothing," when Beth finally spoke it was with a clear, firm voice.

"Well, so you're aware of the rules," Agent Grimes acknowledged what Beth had said with a tilt of his head, but approached Daryl until he was right in his face. Daring him to back-up, but Daryl held his ground. "Whatever I want to be my business is my business. That's how it actually works." Rick Grimes was good at the intimidating whisper. He didn't drop his eyes from Daryl for even a second.

"Really—I was just bein' dumb and he stopped me from harassin' your officers, that's all that happened. It just looked… bad," Beth inserted herself between them. Somehow, she'd managed to cross the living room without either of them noticing her until she physically placed herself between them. He wished she wouldn't stand so close to him, especially not with everyone watching them and her older sister mentally flaying him.

"Uh, huh," said Agent Rick without looking down at Beth, "That's what I figured you'd say." He tore his eyes away from Daryl's face and addressed the room as a whole, "Sorry for any inconvenience that the situation caused tonight—we did try and handle it in a timely fashion."

"Very timely, good work officers," said Evan.

"We'll let you get back to your evening," Agent Grimes nodded, and began to exit the house, lingering a few seconds longer in the doorway, Daryl thought, just to make them all squirm. Officer Shane followed directly after him. He hadn't said a word the whole time he'd been there—Daryl realized he could see a vein in the policeman's neck was standing out. His shoulders rock-hard with tension. Out the window, Officer Shane apparently found his tongue, because he called out something to Agent Grimes which made him stop short by the curb and whirl around the face him.

Daryl breathed out and backed up. A few dozen strands of golden hair had gotten caught around his buttons. He brushed them away as he tried to put a little space between himself and the teenager.

A moment after the men walked out, Maggie silently shut the door, and turned to face her sister, arms crossed. "Ya scared me to death," she told her in a deadly whisper.

Wordlessly, Beth slipped her arms around her sister's waist and hung there. Though Maggie was clearly still pissed with her, she wrapped her arms across her shoulders and squeezed, directing another jagged stare at Daryl.

"Hey now, no need to be overdramatic," Merle interrupted their tender reunion with a chuckle, "It was all kinds of boring 'round here tonight, pretty lady—but there weren't never any real danger for your daughter—"

"Sister," both the Greene girls and Minnie and Karen corrected him in unison, with Maggie glaring at him from over Beth's shoulder.

"Whatever."

"She's twenty-four, Merle," said Beth, indignant on behalf of her sister, but he just continued to look pleased with himself.

Maggie nodded in the direction of Minnie and Karen, wearing an expression like she'd just had to swallow something slimy on her face as she said, "You girls need a ride?"

"Nah, my cousins will be here any minute. They owe us," said Minnie.

"Kay," Maggie nodded, clearly relieved at that. "We better start walkin', my Saturn's parked near a half-mile from here on that road—"

"We could give ya a lift," Daryl interrupted her, looking down at his feet and then hers. Maggie was wearing a pair of nice black shoes with a shallow heel. They weren't as stupid for walking as Minnie or Karen's, but they clearly didn't like the road.

For a moment the thin line that Maggie's mouth became made him think she was going to tell him to go to hell, but instead she nodded curtly. "Fine. Let's get out of here."

Beth waved a careless goodbye to the room at large. Minnie gave her a muffled 'happy birthday' which a few other voices echoed.

As the Dixon brothers and the Greene sisters stepped out onto the lawn, it was clear that the street was beginning to truly settle after the exciting evening. There were still some cruisers hanging around, but the barricade was more or less dissolved. In a few minutes people would be able to return to their homes—or finally leave them, depending on their needs.

Special Agent Rick Grimes and Officer Shane Walsh were still hovering near to the house, in what appeared, even from a distance, to be a heated discussion. He wondered what had made the FBI step in, what had been the nature of 708's most recent crime and the deal he'd made with Nick to bring the barricade down so quickly. If he and Merle were going to do this job, he might be able to get the details from Jeremiah and Evan, but now thinking about the job made his stomach clench even worse than before.

Why did Beth have to go and say those things to him? He already had a nasty feeling about this job, but her concern had damn near made him have a heart-attack. She'd looked at him with those big, innocent eyes like she could already see a vision of it all going bad. That, combined with Merle's mysterious insistence made him dread the prospect, even more so than he normally would.

_"…You're smart. You can take care of yourself and play the police and hide from 'em when you need to—but you ain't smart enough to make your own life easier by just goin' legit,"_ he smirked, in spite of himself. It was something to see the girl all fired up. So, she thought that he ought to try living straight? So what? Why should it make a difference to him what some girl thought?

As they reached the other side of the street where he and Merle had parked their bikes earlier that day, he turned around to see her coming with a little smile on her lips. She was clearly excited by the prospect of getting on the bike, practically bouncing on her toes as she drew near.

…It _did_ make a difference to him what some girl thought.

Maybe, it couldn't make a difference in what he actually did. Merle was still determined that they needed to do the job, and so it was settled. Daryl would do it, if his brother told him to, but it would make a difference in what he thought of himself after.

"Maggie? It's okay?" it seemed he wasn't the only one beholden to his sibling, Beth turned to look at Maggie pleadingly.

Maggie looked like she was sorely tempted to say no as she surveyed at the old bikes, but she sighed and nodded, "I really thought that between the two of us, _I'd_ be the one with biker friends," in undertone to her sister.

In response, Beth grinned wider, a little color coming into her cheeks as she sauntered up to Daryl's bike.

"Don't think I'm getting' fresh, sweetcheeks—but ya might wanna hike that skirt up," Merle recommended with a wink to Maggie.

Visibly doing her best to ignore him, Maggie slipped her shoes off her feet, clutching them in one hand as she climbed onto the Bike behind Merle. She adjusted her skirt quickly with a pointed look at Beth, who was clearly fighting a giggle.

As Daryl pulled his kick-stand up and brought the engine to life, Beth picked up her feet and wrapped her arms around his waist. He looked down at her small hands gripping to the front of his shirt, feeling warmth spread through him again. She didn't have to hold him so close, but she was pressing her cheek to the back of his shoulder, keeping herself tight around him. It might have just been caution, or even fear at being on the bike as it was about to move, but it was reminiscent of the embrace that she'd given him earlier.

They glided straight past the lingering remnants of Officer Shane's cavalry, winding away from the houses and the edges of the wood until they made it back to the road. All too soon, they had arrived beside Maggie's golden Saturn. He'd never admit out-loud that he'd privately been hoping that a half-mile could somehow turn into a longer journey.

Maggie launched herself off the bike and strode barefoot over to her car with a quick and biting "Thanks," to Merle.

In contrast, Beth took her time as she wound herself off the bike. Waving to Merle, she offered him a little smile, "Thanks for keepin' an eye on my friends."

"My pleasure, dollface," said Merle over the rumble of his bike's engine. He stroked his feet along the ground and worked up the momentum to be several yards away. If it hadn't been Merle, than Daryl might have suspected him of courtesy—trying to give the two of them some space to say a more private goodbye, but since it definitely _was_ Merle, his brash and loutish big brother, he could only assume that the man was anxious to get on the way and wanted Daryl to keep it snappy.

He wasn't the only impatient sibling on the street. Maggie had already gotten in the car. The lights were on, the engine purring and Daryl estimated that it would only be seconds before she was honking the horn.

Beth stood beside him and his bike. Reaching into her back pocket she revealed the joker card from Andy's deck. She'd written all over it. Without explanation she slipped it into Daryl's hand, but from a single glance he was able to figure out that it had the address of the farm on it. "Thank you… for lookin' out for me."

"Uh hm," he managed, putting the card into his pocket.

"Please. Please, come," she gripped the handle of the bike, and seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, then, so quickly he might have blinked and missed it, she bounced up onto her toes and pecked him lightly on the cheek.

He didn't recover in time to give her a reaction; he didn't even take another breath until she had disappeared into her sister's car. The Saturn peeled away into the night in front of them, tail-lights fading into nothing.

If he had allowed himself to imagine what it might feel like when her soft lips touched him, he never would have really been prepared for it. It was like the daylight returned for a split second to crush the darkness of the early night. He was relieved that she left right away, if she'd stood there even a moment longer, he wasn't sure what he would have done.

…but he wasn't _that_ relieved.

Merle rode around on his bike to face his brother in the road, "Souvenir for ya," he tossed a jumbled of fabric at Daryl. It hit him full in the face. As he pulled it away he didn't need to look at it to recognize that it was Beth's ruined shirt.

* * *

**Slytherin pulled ahead at the last minute! **

**So, Rick... we will eventually learn more about his switch from Sheriff's Deputy to FBI agent, but it's not important to the story right now. Just hang onto it.**

**They're separated but it won't last long. I'm trying to balance between going too fast or too slow with these folks. Romance is still pretty different for me, so I apologize for my shakiness. I usually write stories that involve a lot more blood and guts. Revenge. Demon babies. Aliens. Cursed tattoos. I am careening into unknown and fluffy territory, which is precisely why I think it's important that I write this... it's different. In a lot of ways, it's way harder for me than anything else. I'm learning!**

**Thanks so much for your support and kind words, I heart my followers all:)**

**Song of the chapter is... **

**Home - Phillip Phillips **


	10. Bad Company

If Merle and Maggie hadn't been there… if Beth and Daryl had been alone on the side of the road, she wouldn't have kissed him lightly on the cheek. She would have thrown her arms around his neck and used whatever confidence she could scare up from within her trembling body to try and entice him into kissing her the way she wanted. For an instant, as they stood there on the side of the road, she almost managed to overcome her fear that he would think she was just a stupid girl with a crush.

Would it have made it more or less likely that he'd come to the farm?

She wanted him to come.

The car ride home didn't go at all how Beth anticipated it. She thought that she and Maggie would yell at each other for the first five minutes or so, but then they'd get to trading their 'It's okay's and soon enough Maggie would be bugging her for a blow-by-blow of the whole night, and for the last few miles to the farm they'd both be laughing about the whole thing.

That wasn't what happened.

Maggie didn't string two words together. Beth rarely saw her like this, and she'd _never_ directed the silent treatment at her younger sister before. She couldn't tell whether she was _really_ mad, or just distracted. Either way, she wouldn't talk to her. Beth explained what had happened with zero feedback from her sister. When she was finished and they were still miles from home, Maggie only nodded at her, checked the rear-view and then kept her eyes on the road and her mouth shut.

"Are you really that mad?" Beth had asked her as Maggie parked the Saturn in front of the farmhouse.

"No," Maggie sounded sincere, but she had to be lying. There was no other reason for her to shut down like this. She got out of the car while Beth was still fumbling with her seat-belt and hurried towards the house to greet her parents, along with Otis and Patricia.

Beth took her time, she half-expected that when she got to the house Maggie would have told her parents everything, thus ensuring a long night of crushing expressions of disappointment would follow. She was relieved when she came into the house and found everything calm and more or less, just as she'd left it. Her mom gave her a hug and said she liked her new shirt and then that she looked tired, giving her the perfect excuse to go right up to bed.

She vaguely heard Otis say something about how it was too bad the night got cut short, but that it would be nice to have Maggie's help with breakfast in the morning. She wondered what story Maggie had come up with to explain her early arrival and picking up Beth along the way.

Showered and in bed at last, Beth listened to the rest of the house going to sleep. Before the light in the hallway went out, she saw a shadow stop the light for a few minutes as someone paused outside her door. Somehow, she knew it was Maggie. The light in the hall went out a few minutes later and she could barely hear footsteps fading into silence.

As she watched the clock tick closer to her birthday, Beth thought about Daryl. It didn't seem like anything she'd said to him sunk in. He didn't want to hear it, and who could blame him? They'd just met and she immediately demanded that he change.

The more she thought about it, the more embarrassed she felt. It _would_ be a good thing, if he ever did decide he wanted to try a less hazardous lifestyle. Maybe her words would come back to him when he was ready, and he'd ditch his asshole friends and… and what? Straighten up and fly right? Settle down? She believed in that stuff, but if she was being totally honest with herself, that wasn't her main motivation for confronting him. That wasn't the reason she scribbled down directions to her father's farm and forced it into his hand.

She knew that he'd disappear. He would get shot down in Mexico, or crash on his bike, or he'd simply wander Georgia ad infinitum and she'd never see him again. She, on the other hand, would probably end up living on this farm or someplace like this for the rest of her life, or maybe she'd move to Atlanta like Maggie. In any case, they might as well be living in completely different universes. The instant that thought occurred to her she'd felt sick and she wanted some way that he could cross over into her world.

The only problem was that he had to _want_ that. Why would he?

_He could want me._ She hid her face in her pillow though there was no one around to see it. She'd never felt less grown-up than right now; she was letting her imagination fly far away from reality. In reality, he hadn't given her any indication that he wanted anything to do with her, outside of not seeing her hurt on his watch. He'd tolerated her hugging him and badgering him with probing questions and observations. When she kissed him he'd turned to stone again. She'd purposefully avoided looking at his eyes when she backed away because she was afraid she'd only see that he was annoyed with her. What if he was somewhere right now, thinking about how glad he was to be rid of her? Or what if he didn't think of her at all?

Beth fell asleep before the clock turned over to midnight. She was still seventeen.

* * *

If he told Merle about Beth offering them jobs on the farm, he'd never hear the end of it. In his mind, he weighed that with the likely-hood that Merle wouldn't go for it, and also… there was the possibility that it was his only chance to ever see Beth again. He shouldn't have let that last one matter so much. He shouldn't care whether he ever saw her again—seeing the girl would only be more of a problem. It wasn't like there was anything good that could come of seeing her. He wasn't that guy.

Why did she have to kiss him? Sweet as sunlight and rain, he could still feel her right there, though she'd barely touched him. He wished she hadn't done that. He wished she hadn't stopped there. Sometimes, he wanted to be that guy.

He didn't speak much to his brother that night or the next morning, but he doubted Merle took notice. His big brother spoke enough for both of them, more often than not, and Daryl let him. At least it was something in the air besides breakfast smoke and whiskey vapors.

Merle was restless around their little shack, talking fast, cussing when he felt like the silence had gone on too long. Daryl lay on his back on the collapsed remains of a sofa, listening to him with one wrist across his eyes to block out the daylight.

"Ya smoke more when you're stressed," Merle observed, plucking the cigarette right from Daryl's mouth to take a drag off it. "You'll have a pack knockin' around for a while and barely make a dent in it. Then ya snap and blaze through the whole thing at once." He sat down heavily on the arm of the sofa above Daryl's head, leaning back with his arms crossed. "All in knots about tonight, or what?" he asked gruffly, something nearly like concern ringing in his voice.

"We ain't _gotta_ do it," muttered Daryl. "It's stupid, and ya hate those guy, almost as much as I do."

"Their money's okay," Merle managed a smile that turned into a cough as he expelled a puff of smoke.

"We could do somethin' else."

"Yeah, like what?"

In the end, Daryl didn't hesitate nearly as long as he thought he would. He pulled Beth's card out of his pocket. It had gotten roughed up, but the words were still clear where she'd written them on every bit of white space she could find around the dancing joker. With a flick of two fingers he offered it to his brother who snatched it, reading with eyebrows low and mouth slightly open. "… the hell?"

"Girl's dad hires farmhands… Been a while since we signed up for farmwork. Could be nice, takin' regular pay for a little while."

Leaning back to get a better look at his brother, Merle's jaw snapped shut and he took a moment to sweep him over with a searching glance. "Damn boy. I didn't think she liked your ass _that_ much." He laughed as he slid off the arm of the sofa, still holding onto the playing card, he turned it over in his fingers. With his other hand he put the cigarette out on the couch and tossed it carelessly into the corner of the room. "Not a bad notion…" He smirked, "We could at least try it out… 'til old man farmer kicks your ass to the road for tuppin' his daughter and we gotta book it with copper-coating chasin' us. Like that classic dirty joke—I ain't heard that one in years… Yeah. Why not? Maybe after this business with Jer and his crew." He tossed the card back towards Daryl, it landed on the filthy floor in front of the sofa.

Doing his best to ignore the vulgar part of Merle's ramblings, Daryl got snagged on the last words with a wince he asked, "Why after?" Daryl sat up with a groan, cracking his neck to punctuate the question. "Why not forget 'bout the guns?"

Merle's face fell, while his shoulders rounded, he shifted his weight, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "We gotta take it. We need the money."

Finally, it clicked. Maybe he would have picked up on it earlier if he hadn't been so distracted by Beth Greene and the whole debacle with the cops. "You get in deep with someone?" He watched Merle closely for a reaction.

With a shallow breath and a minute to steel himself, Merle was rock-hard and cold. No longer troubled in the least he came clean with the air of a man talking about something that had happened to someone else, a long time ago. "Deep 'nough. Ya remember a couple months back? After that construction stint? I didn't meet up with ya for a couple of weeks? I mighta whiled away a bit in Atlantic City for a weekend."

"Atlantic City?" Daryl repeated, furrowing his brow. "You don't gamble."

"I _did_," Merle grimaced, "Coulda been that I was strung out… more so than you've seen. Anyhow—I had to borrow a bit. Sum's come due."

Daryl hung his head over his knees, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Coulda told ya, I reckon," it was about as close as Merle would ever get to offering an apology to his brother.

"Yeah, 'probly," about as close as Daryl ever got to accepting an apology from his brother.

Taking a ragged breath, Daryl let his hands drop from his face. The first thing he saw was the joker card that Beth had scribbled the address for the farm on, settled on the ground between his feet. He raised his head to face his brother.

"Don't ya look at me like that," Merle growled at him, "You've been known to partake in the odd 'shroom here n' there, brother. Just 'cause ya ain't got quite the same predilections as myself… I know ya don't take to the crystal, or much else for that matter… pot makes your tummy all sick—which by the way is the complete opposite for how it is with the rest of us, 'sposed to make ya feel better—point is, wipe that look off your face, boy. I ain't never lost control. Just… had a bad night, is all."

Nodding, Daryl conceded, but didn't blink. If Merle felt guilty for putting them in this position, it was his own damn bed to lie in. Daryl wouldn't help him along, but he wasn't going to reassure him either. He snatched the card off the ground and put it back in his pocket. "Guess we do it, then. Got another cigarette?"

* * *

She must have had good dreams, but Beth didn't remember them. She clung to the edges of some delicious, faraway feeling with her eyes still closed as she listened to the rest of the house shake off the sleep. Birds sang out the window, the orange bleed through her eyelids but she didn't want it to be over.

It took her until there was a knock at her door to remember that it was her birthday. Maggie was already dressed. She gave her sister a sheepish smile, as she closed the door behind her back. "Happy Birthday," she sat down beside her in the bed, giving her a one-armed hug.

Beth smiled back at her, but didn't say anything right away, still uneasy about Maggie's chilly silence the night before. She read her sister's expression as one of shame and decided that she probably felt guilty about how she'd handled things. Finally Beth took it upon herself to break the silence, "You comin' to church?"

With a grimace Maggie said, "I don't know…"

"It'd make daddy happy. It's my birthday. Nice to have daddy happy on my birthday." She batted her eyes.

Maggie's green gaze narrowed at her a moment, but she couldn't hold a serious face, with a snort of laughter she said, "You win, I'll go. I don't have a dress though."

"The scary lawyer-suit you had on last night's perfect," said Beth, nudging her gently.

"I ain't a lawyer," said Maggie with a smile of relief she added, "Thank heavens." Her smile widened until it was a grin of guilt, "I sorta made those cops and that FBI agent think I was though," she admitted in a whisper that turned into laughter.

"What?!" Beth said louder than she meant.

"Shh!" But Maggie was grinning widen than ever.

"You _lied_ to them?!"

"Not exactly _lied_," said Maggie slowly, "I told them I came straight from the firm—which I _did_, and then I might have dropped Andrea's name and let them think that I was representing her, or working with her at least, but I never said that _I_ was a lawyer. They might have just thought that to themselves and I didn't correct them," she shrugged.

"Yeah, that's lying," Beth called her out brightly.

"Technically it's… deceptive," Maggie admitted, biting her lip, "But I was scared for you—I wanted to get you outta there quick, and I didn't think they'd take me seriously."

For a stretch, neither of them said anything. Maggie was tracing the floral pattern on Beth's comforter. Around them, the house was noticeably more awake, she could hear the occasional noise from the kitchen and out the window she thought she saw some distant movement as the work for the day got underway. She watched her sister's smile slowly fade as her eyes filled with that same concern that had haunted them the night before.

"I'm sorry that I scared you so bad," said Beth. For the first time, she really meant it. She shouldn't have gotten Maggie involved. Everything would have been fine if she hadn't dragged her in, she'd only managed to make sure that _her_ night was ruined.

"Beth, can I tell you something?" Maggie looked up at her earnestly, "And you won't get mad?"

"Uh… yeah," said Beth, not having enough time to think it through or be worried about what she might say.

"Your friends are damn fools. I kinda hate 'em." She spoke with such perfectly seriousness that it made Beth dissolve into giggles again and after a few seconds Maggie followed suit. "I mean it. They're idiots," she said, trying to reign her laughter in. "I never got why you hung out with them in the first place."

"You remember _your_ friends in high school?" Beth countered.

Maggie went a little red at that, and conceded with a raise of her eyebrows and a nod. "Yeah, they were pretty dumb too, I guess."

"I dunno," Beth shrugged, "Ya know how it is. Small town. We've known each other forever…"

"But you're growin' up… and they ain't."

Slowly, Beth raised her head up and down, lips pursued. "Yeah."

Maggie frowned down at her hands, still in her lap, "I'm sorry I acted like that last night. I just have a lot to think about these days. And the whole thing with you in that drug shack was too bizarre to process right away," she let out a hiss and added, "And then you _kissed_ that Daryl guy, and I think I just lost it for a little while."

"On the cheek," Beth felt her face going ruddy, betraying her.

In reply, Maggie only gave her a look, stranded between a glare and a knowing smirk.

Usually the champion of staring contests with either of her siblings, Beth couldn't hold this one.

"You really liked him, didn't you?" Maggie finally called her out in a firm voice, it wasn't actually a question; it was an alarmed observation.

She couldn't muster up the gumption to lie right away, but she did manage a kind of cowardly shrug.

"He's a hell of a lot older'n you."

"Yeah, I noticed that," Beth said tonelessly, she bit her lip, remembering a detail from the night before that she hadn't included when she told Maggie the story in the car.

As if able to smell it on her, Maggie's eyes narrowed, "…What?"

"I told him to come to the farm." She hadn't been specific about what it was that brought Daryl and his brother to the house; she'd only implied that they had some hand in illegal dealings. She'd told Daryl that she wouldn't tell anyone about the guns and she meant it, but something compelled her to confess a portion of it, "I told him he oughta work here."

Maggie was shaking her head, green eyes pleading, "Oh Beth, I wish you hadn't done that."

"Why not?" Beth shot back, "If he don't find legit work he'll end up doing something… dangerous, with Merle."

Maggie didn't want to fight. Her response was firm, but quiet and tinged with compassion. "You can't save him."

* * *

The sirens were distant now. The sound of the pouring rain was louder in his ears than anything else, except maybe his own pumping blood. It was flood season and that meant the water came from every direction, it pummeled his face, drenched him through every layer of clothing and muddied up the ground beneath his feet, but somehow he'd still managed to run. At least the cops didn't have dogs. At least the rain would get rid of a lot of the evidence that he'd ever let out that direction. Maybe he could still be a ghost in this.

Daryl's feet pounded at the ground as he tore through the edge of the woods and barely managed to stop himself sliding head-first into the ditch along the road. It was filled with water, but it was his only route of escape, so after psyching himself up for half a heart-beat he waded in, only to grab handfuls of slick grass and dirt on the other side and begin pulling himself up to the road. The only good thing about a little flooding was that there wouldn't be too many people out to see him scrambling around like the guilty filth that he was. And those sirens were going the other way, heading straight to the damage, while he'd managed to slip away from it.

Though he needed it, he didn't pause to catch his breath. His lungs hated him for what he'd just put them through—and for smoking so much. He really needed to seriously consider quitting. He checked at his waistband to make sure he still had his gun; it hadn't jostled free during his mad dash from the scene of the crime. A half-mile down the road, he saw his bike and his brother's waiting right where they'd met up with Evan and Jeremiah a few hours earlier.

His heart sank when he saw that they were still the only two vehicles in front of the lonely little diner. The place was empty, finally closed and it didn't look like anyone was waiting there for him.

Standing in front of the pitch-black diner, next to the two motorcycles he couldn't help but call out, though he knew it was futile, "MERLE!" he shouted his brother's name twice more, but he was alone in the rainstorm. He knew it would be like this. The minute things started to go bad, and it looked like the police were on their way, he'd somehow felt it in the hollow of his chest.

He would get away. But he'd be the only one.

Merle wasn't as fast as him, but he was a tough, strong, smart sumbitch. Maybe Daryl was wrong, maybe his older brother wasn't in handcuffs, again. Though he wanted to be far from here, he sat down in the doorway of the diner. It was under enough cover that he only occasional found himself slapped in the face with a sheet of water that poured down from the canopy. He waited until the storm was over and the air went back to being cool and dry. He waited until the dark ebbed.

It was the start of the morning shift at the diner that drove him away, though he never saw anyone up close. The minute he realized that the car at the far end of the road would likely be coming to open the diner for the day, and that he had no money and was soaked through and looked about as criminal and homeless as he ever had.

Merle was arrested again, this time, it might be for a long while. Or, there was the possibility that he was still on the lamb, but couldn't meet up where they'd left the bikes for some reason.

There was also the possibility that he was hurt or… Daryl didn't think about it long enough to feel more than a shadow and fear, or decide how it would change him. He picked Merle's bike over his own—it was in better condition and besides that, if Daryl left it here and anything happened to it, Merle would murder him. He ditched his own instead, and rode away before the day manager got a good look at him.

* * *

**I didn't give details on precisely what happened here, but it'll get expanded on in later chapters. For now, let's just note that Daryl is on his own with Beth's address in his pocket. Hope you guys dig it! Let me know what you think, and a big thank you to those who review as guests also. I cannot answer you individually, so... public thanks!**

**Wish You Were Here - Blackmore's Night**


	11. Wolves and Wanderers

It was after midnight when Beth put the final touches on her history paper. It was due first thing in the morning. She'd always thought that History was a bit of a rough class to start out a schedule. When she woke up in the morning; that was usually the brightest, happiest moment of the day, following it up with all that heavy war and human mistakes that no one seemed to have learned anything from was always a downer.

She was alone in the kitchen where she'd been for the last few hours, reading and working on the paper. She started to pack up, taking care to be quiet, and not disturb the rest of the house.

There was no need. The front door swung open and Otis came in, his breath was a little labored as he took a few heavy steps into the kitchen. "Ya still doin' up?" he asked, furrowing his brow at her, "Homework? Well, that'll please your dad. He's been worried about your grades. Senior year ain't the time to check out."

"Yeah, I've been worried too," Beth privately wondered if her senior year was the perfect time to check out, but Otis was probably right. "Why are you still awake?"

"Me and your dad," he motioned out the window onto the grounds, then ducked into the fridge, through a yawn he said, "There's wolves roaming nearby. We gotta start a night-watch 'til they move on." He looked exhausted, rubbing at his eyes and then his beard with both hands.

"Why don't you go to bed? I can go do my homework with dad—make sure he doesn't fall asleep," she offered. There was no need for her to get anything else finished, but she could always get a head start on her next assignments, and besides, she wasn't tired.

"I dunno," said Otis, shaking his head, but his eyes were bloodshot. It was calving season and he'd been up all the night before.

"It's fine. I need to pull my weight around here, anyway," she smiled apologetically. She was the only person in the household who didn't have any set chores at the moment, on account of school and her high-priority mission to pull her grades up. Still, she usually pitched in where she could, when she had time, but this week she hadn't even feed the chickens.

"Alright," Otis nodded, "I appreciate it," he patted her on the shoulder as he shuffled past, letting his exhaustion show more than ever. "He's at that spot in the fence that needs to be dealt with. Take a couple of drinks and a snack out to him, will ya?"

She'd assumed that was what Otis was doing in the fridge, and was already looking around for something portable and filling to take with her. A couple of apples from the counter and her mother's homemade granola to munch on would be perfect.

On the far side of their property, she found her father, white-haired and stoic with a shotgun propped in his hands. She felt a familiar sorrow, because when he was tired he looked real old. It was always a little jarring when she noticed her father's age. He was still strong and had no intention of dying for a few more decades, at least, but all the same. The wrinkles in his face were a source of expectant fear whenever she noticed them.

He stood beside a pair of lawn chairs. Beth hadn't been out this way in a few weeks. She couldn't see with her own eyes what was wrong with the fence, but then again, everything looked the same to her as it always had.

Hershel turned as she approached; tilting his brow when he saw that it was her coming and not his foreman, "Ya sent Otis to bed?"

"Didn't give him a choice," she set her backpack in the dirt, unzipping the top to fish out the snacks and water that she'd brought him.

"Well, probably best," said Hershel with a sigh, "Poor man's exhausted… but you've got school in the morning. I'll be fine on my own."

In response, she sat down in one of the lawn chairs and smiled up at him. Her father was in his seventies and with each passing season he became more prone to falling asleep under conditions that shouldn't allow it. Even now, she was sure that the reason he'd chosen to stand even though there were two chairs was because he didn't want to drift off and leave his post unattended. "I promise. I'll go to bed when I feel it. I'm not tired. I got homework, anyway." To make a point of settling in, she start fishing through her backpack, pulling out her history text book and propping it open in her lap. It was all pantomime, but he didn't call her on it.

She pretended to study as long as she could stand it, but soon ended up sitting with her chin propped in one hand, watching her father fight off sleep even as he stood stalk-still. He'd never let her stay out here alone on watch, least of all because she didn't really know anything about guns.

Hershel blinked slowly, head dropping about half an inch in a few seconds. She was going to have to keep him awake.

"Wolves?" she asked, somewhat hopeful. She didn't want them to cause any trouble, but it would be something to see a wolf up close, in the wild.

He looked up with a jerk, able to snap to alertness in an instant, "Wolf pack," he nodded. "Thinks it's going to settle in the area awhile—but it won't. Can't let it. We heard 'em earlier, Otis and I. They were out there cryin'."

As if on cue something stirred in the tree-line beyond the fence. The rustling pulled both of their eyes into the shadows.

"...it's probably something smaller and less interesting," said Hershel, but he had his shotgun at the ready, just in case.

"You ain't gonna _shot_ a wolf if you see one, are ya?"

"Nah. Not unless one actually tried to attack one of us, or one of the animals." He gestured to the shotgun, "This is just Otis' beanbag gun. It wouldn't do much damage even if you did hit the poor beast. It's just to scare 'em off, if they come. Help them figure out that our animals aren't a viable food-source. If all the farms around here do the same, the pack will move on, look elsewhere."

She peered into the night for another four minutes before she gave up on seeing a wolf. Whatever it was that had made the noise seemed to be long gone now.

"With the fence needing to be redone, and with this new night-watch, we could sure use a few more backs to bear the burden."

"Yeah," said Beth, so quiet she hardly heard herself speak.

"S'not really the season to pick up a troop of migrant workers, but I think I'll have Otis look into it in the morning," He took a bite out of one of the apples with a crunch.

She had really thought that Daryl might come, but with each day that passed she felt it was getting more and more likely that he'd forgotten all about it. Maggie would be pleased, she realized, heart sinking. Her older sister had texted Beth both Monday and Tuesday asking if he'd shown up. Finally, Beth had promised her that if he came, she'd let Maggie know—but only after Maggie swore up and down that she wouldn't say anything to their parents about him.

It didn't look like Beth would ever need to send that text. It had been almost a week. He must have found something else… she just hoped it wasn't the gun running job that Jeremiah had been trying to talk him into.

"You doing alright, Bethy?"

"Yeah, 'course," she didn't look up from pretending to read her textbook.

"…It's just I noticed you haven't done anything with your friends all week. I haven't heard you mention them since your birthday. You came right home everyday. Didn't linger to chat after school, like you usually do. Don't talk much either, you just read in your room, or do your homework."

She gave a prolonged shrug, "I just wanna raise my grades before I graduate."

"Ya didn't get into a fight with your friends?" He raised his eyebrows in concern at her.

She shrugged again. They hadn't exactly gotten into a fight, but she hadn't been speaking to them much. After everything that had happened that night, it was getting clearer to her that she and her friends had been drifting apart for months, and maybe that was okay. She didn't want to do anything to make them feel bad, but a little distance was as healthy as it was inevitable.

"Well, I can't say it's a grand loss," Hershel chuckled, "I'm just glad their overindulgent ways never influenced you, like we feared."

Stunned to silence, Beth could only stare at her father. "You know that they…?"

"Where do you think you get your observant nature from, Bethy?"

She glanced at the house, fighting a smile.

"That's right—your _mother_. But, I've picked up on a few things. It's easy with your friends, because their vices are so familiar to me." He cleared his throat, shifting his weight. "Whenever you come home from hanging out with them, your clothes smell, Bethy—even if you're not the one doing any of that stuff. It rubs off. Just being around booze is bad enough."

"Daddy, I just want you to know, that I never—"

"I know," he interrupted her, nodding. "I'm proud of you for taking my word for it, this far into your life, but I'm well aware by now that I can't make every decision for my children." He added, "As tempting as it is to try," after a moment of quiet.

"…Kinda tempting to let you," she giggled, but it faded quickly into uneasy silence, "but not really. I know that isn't the way it works."

"…Listen, you'd probably rather talk to your mother about this kind of thing, but I just want you to know, we do pay attention to you. We've noticed that this year's been testing for ya."

"There's no reason for it to be," Beth couldn't look up at his face. "There's nothing wrong—"

"Sure there is," he said gently, "You're about to finish high school, you'll be heading out in a few months, and I can see that ya aren't thrilled about that."

She finally looked up at his kind smile and returned it, "It's stupid," she shrugged, "I just thought I'd know what I wanted by now. What I'm supposed to do." _Purpose._

"I'd be worried if you _weren't_ thinking about this kind of stuff. You're a good girl, you're bright. You'll figure it out, with a little faith and a few hundred prayers."

It shouldn't have made her feel better. It was the kind of thing he'd said countless times, for as long as she could remember, she was growing numb to some of his council. But all the same, it did help her to breathe a little easier for a moment, because she knew he was right, deep down. She would figure this adult thing out.

The moment ended when something shuffled in the darkness up ahead. She stiffened and watched with wide eyes, Hershel still beside her with the beanbag gun at the ready, but nothing showed itself.

* * *

When he saw the farm, Daryl almost flipped an immediate U-turn.

It was too perfect.

The Greene Family Farm was ideal. Bathed in sunlight, it looked especially reminiscent of some painting; an artistic representation of a six year old Southern girl's dream-home. He couldn't really imagine people actually living in that damned doll-house.

Except he knew that Beth lived there, and she was kind. She'd asked him to come. In the end, that was what kept him from tearing away down the road; it was the silver of hope that he might _still_ be welcome here, by her, at least. Unless she'd thought better of it. He could hardly blame her if that was the case.

He parked his truck in the shade, on the road, not too close to the house. He thought he might need it to steel himself with a little bit of a walk. Besides that, he didn't want to draw any attention to his own arrival.

Too late. The second he stepped out of the truck he saw a figure coming towards him. A heavy guy with a ring of keys as his waist and a cautious kink in his eyebrows.

"You the foreman?" Daryl shouted when he was still a few dozen yards away. He put his hands in his pocket as he came to meet him in the driveway, trying to fake some confidence with his chin cocked up.

"Yeah? Who's askin'?"

"I was told there might be some work to get done."

The foreman's mouth closed shut in an instant and his face split into understanding, "Well—that was fast. We just started lookin' this morning."

That gave Daryl a second of pause, but he shrugged it off. Maybe it was better if he didn't mention Beth's name. He doubted her family would have a load of appreciation for the circumstances under which they met. If she'd told them anything about him—she'd have lied. He highly doubted she would say anything.

"Name's Otis," he stuck out his hand for Daryl to shake. "I've been the foreman for Hershel Greene for round about twenty years."

"Daryl Dixon."

"Dixon? Ya local?" After taking his hand back, he immediately moved in the direction of the far field, waving one hand to beckon Daryl to follow him. "I know some Dixons."

"There's a few of us," muttered Daryl, "Nah, ain't from here," he added a little louder.

"How'd ya hear 'bout our need?" Otis glanced back over his shoulder at him. They tried to stick to the shade, but there wasn't much on the way. It was the first properly warm day of the year, the humidity warning them of an inevitable storm to come.

"Just passin' through town. Word gets 'round."

Otis nodded in acknowledgement but didn't comment further, he'd know better than to pry. A farm like this probably had a lot of migrant workers come and go. Their business was their own. Daryl was no different.

"Our main reason for needing extra hands right now is this fence," Otis slapped it, as if to prove is insufficiency it rocked a little under his big hand. "Can't wait through another winter, and Hershel wants it done and outta the way 'fore something more pressing comes up. The other thing—we gotta establish a night-watch. There's pack of wolves in the area."

Daryl nodded, "Alright."

"You got any kinda experience on a farm?"

"Yeah," it was usually Merle that did all the talking through his part. He tried to think of something that his brother would say, but thinking about his brother at all twisted his chest up. "Any kinda job ya got, I've probably done it before," he shrugged, "Horses, cattle, whatever. S'long as ya pay me I'm game." He was staring at his feet a lot, too much, but Otis didn't seem to care.

"Well, we'll try you out where we need ya, just to see," Otis offered, "Can you start right away?"

"Ain't got any other plans."

"There it is then," Otis gestured back towards the dollhouse, "I'll introduce you to Hershel and we can get started."

Otis had Daryl wait on the steps in front of the house while he went inside to get the farmer. Left alone with the Greene farm bright and humid all around him, Daryl couldn't help but wonder what it might have been like for Beth, growing up in a place like this. Did she listen to her dad and stay close to the house, avoid the duck-pond unless someone was around to watch her? Or did she worry her folks and run off past that dark tree-line that he could barely peer into on the edges of their fields?

He wasn't alone with his thoughts long before Hershel appeared. He was older than Daryl might've guessed—if he'd taken a second to do so. The man was at least in his seventies with neatly-set white hair and clear, pale eyes like his daughter's. His mouth turned down in a natural frown, but he made an effort at friendliness as he descended the steps, "Hershel Greene."

Daryl gripped his hand, "Daryl Dixon."

"Otis tells me you'll be joining us to help with some of this extra work."

"Yeah, grateful for the opportunity," Daryl mumbled.

"We're a bit old-fashioned around here. My family and I are very hands-on with the work, so you'll be answering directly to me and to Otis when it comes down to it," he glanced back at the doorway, where Otis was looking past them onto the fields, though he was still holding a decided demeanor of eavesdropping. "It might not be as big an operation as you've encountered in the past, but I do want to make something perfectly clear. We've had all types come and go. Every year for the harvest we take on migrant workers, and that's fine. They mind their own business and we mind ours. We follow a strict set a rules. No one from my immediate household will ever be alone with you."

It wasn't Daryl's first ballgame. He'd heard speeches like this before. It had never bothered him in the past. It was just logical. It was a policy that protected everybody. No one had to worry about being harmed or taken advantage of by a stranger, and nobody else had to worry about being accused of something they hadn't done. Nothing could ever get boiled down to a he-said she-said if there were always witnesses. It was the system that all good farmers followed.

Today, it irked him. He bit the inside of his cheek.

"No one from my immediately household will ever be on watch or working with you unless Otis or I are present, if a situation arises like the one I just described, there's been an oversight and I expect it to be corrected immediately," said Hershel firmly.

With two good-looking daughters, the man would be a fool if he didn't air on the side of caution. Quietly, Daryl acknowledged that it would be difficult to respect Hershel if he _didn't_ look out for his girls. He started to like the old man immediately as he got over his own stubborn pride and shame. At the same time, he felt a hollow ache as he realized that this put the possibility of him and Beth seeing any of each other down to nil.

It was probably for the best.

"It isn't so much a matter of trust as precaution. I often don't know anything about the men who come to work here, and you don't know anything about us. It's better that way."

Daryl found himself nodding in agreement, more out of nervousness than anything else. "Makes good sense."

"I'm glad you feel that way—Otis, would you get Daryl his papers so we can square this?"

Otis nodded and disappeared into the house.

"It's good to meet you Daryl. We're very grateful for the help. I'll see you out there in no time," Hershel nodded a goodbye and left him alone again to wait on the porch.

No sooner had Hershel vanished than the sound of an approaching car drew Daryl's attention to the end of the long drive. Dust kicked up and finally settled as the little coupe came to a stop just a few yards in front of his truck. He didn't even have to see with his own eyes before he knew it would be her. His heart picked up the pace and he breathed out a ragged lungful of air mingled with a cuss.

She was wearing a short skirt like she was looking forward to summer a little too early in the year. All the way down on the ends of her legs he found those cowboy boots. She must love them. Her blonde hair was in a bit of a curly mess. She'd tried to pull it back in a ponytail but it was coming undone all over her face.

Beth shut the door, haphazardly trying to keep her backpack from slipping off her shoulder. He thought he'd come early enough that she'd still be in school for a few more hours, but it seemed he was wrong. Her eyes were stuck on his truck parked in the road behind her and Merle's motorcycle in the back.

Then she turned, found him on the steps and froze.

Thirty seconds into his new job and he was already breaking the rules.

* * *

**Hey folks! Let me know what you think:) next update should be coming right along...**

**Shh - Frou Frou**


	12. Irish Temper

For the last hundred yards of her trip home, Beth saw the truck, and thought she recognized the bike with a skip of her heart. At first she couldn't see past them to find the man until she was already stumbling her way out of her car. She pictured him in her mind so often over the past week and every detail was the same. His blue eyes were so strangely timid and innocent, though he'd cultivated a decidedly aggressive air, with the way he held himself and his stiff jaw. He stood with his hands in his pockets, framed by the stairs and surrounding railings of the porch. There was an instant of a kind of surreality, because he looked like he belonged here, but at the same time she never could have really imagined it until it happened.

"Daryl!" she didn't hold back her smile, didn't want to hold back anything, but after firmly closing her teeth over her bottom lip she hurried to the stairs to meet him on the steps. "You came! I was starting to wonder," she admitted, stopping herself a foot in front of him.

He must have heard the little bit of worry that crept into her voice because he nodded in acknowledgment, "Yeah, we went to do that job with Jer and his crew," he said in undertone.

She was disappointed, but tried to understand. This was the way he was used to living life. Still, she felt a little stab at her heart as his harsh words came back to her from a week ago. At the time, she'd just thought he was being defensive, but maybe he really did think that she was just a spoiled, clueless girl who could never understand what he was going through. "But you're okay?" she wouldn't let herself get mad at him for going on the job, not right now, anyway. He'd shown up, and she was relieved.

"_I_ am, yeah." He rubbed uncomfortably at the back of his neck, glancing sideways as if afraid they'd be overheard.

Then she noticed; there was only one bike in the truck and no sign of his brother, "Didn't Merle come…?" she trailed off as he shook his head.

"It went bad, Beth. _Real_ bad."

"…Is he alive?" She felt cold. She'd only had one civil conversation with the man, but all the same, she'd come to like Merle, even with his uncouth tongue and careless gaze.

Daryl groaned at that, "I think so," he said with, she suspected, a little more confidence than he might actually own in the moment. "He's one tough bastard. But I can't find him. I looked for days. He's gotta lie low, or..." Daryl didn't finish the thought. He knew full well it was a possibility that Merle was gone, but he didn't want to say it in so many words as she had. She regretted jumping to that conclusion; her doubt seemed to have rattled him.

"I'm sure he's alright," she gripped his arm, drawing his eyes to hers. "Does he know how to find you?"

"Told him I was comin' here," Daryl nodded, "he didn't get a _good_ look at the directions you gave me, but he knows the name Greene and the area. He'll turn up when he can."

She could hear the engine of another car approaching, but ignored it for the moment, though Daryl looked nervously past her, over her shoulder. "Would you tell me what happened? I wanna hear…" the car behind them was roaring up awful close to the house and at a speed that most would deem unsafe. With a little leap inside her chest she realized who it had to be and quickly said, "…Not now though." The last words came out rapidly and then she turned on her heel just in time to greet her brother with a "Hey Shawn! What're you doin' here?" As she turned her back to him, she thought she heard Daryl swear under his breath, but it could have been her imagination.

Shawn clicked the doors locked on his new little Mazda, and flashed her a smile, though his brow knit a little as his gaze shifted to take in the man standing just over her shoulder. "Hey baby sis, gimme a hug."

Especially after long periods of separation, Shawn tended to hug her in a way that didn't speak well of his respect for her physical safety. 'Rib-snapping' was the term that Maggie sometimes used to describe it. She barely managed to drop her bag in time for him to scoop her up under her arms and lifted her up off the ground, squeezing her so tight around the middle that she couldn't draw breath to laugh. "Sorry I missed your birthday, Bethy."

"That's okay," she managed to choke out as he set her back down. "Seriously though—what's goin' on?" he was in his second semester at medical school, supposedly suffocating under a mountain of work so dense that light was but a distant memory, or so he'd said in his most recent e-mail.

"Well…" a little bit of red guilt shown in his cheeks and his expression turned to a grimace. "I think I'm done," he winced, as if expecting Beth to hit him, but she was too shocked to react right away. "Wanna tell mom and Hershel?" he asked in a strained voice. "I'll give you whatever I've got in my wallet—which I think is somewhere in the area of sixty-two cents."

"_Shawn_," she could only shake her head, her mouth hung open. Shawn dropping out of medical school was _not_ going to go over well with her parents.

"So, who's this?" Shawn seemed to only be able to squirm in front of his little sister's shock and disappointment for a few seconds before he had to change the subject, "Sorry—that's rude of me, who're you?" he addressed Daryl directly with a grin that was still infused with nervous redness.

"Daryl."

"Dad's just hired him," Beth explained, "There's a lot of extra work all the sudden, might have to hire a few new people," she added, still not fully recovered from what Shawn had just told her.

"Oh really?" Shawn brightened at that, "'Cause, I suddenly got a lot of free time," he clapped his hands nervously and took a deep breath, looking at the house. "Okay—I'm going in."

"I'll just stay out here a while," said Beth cautiously, she didn't want to be there for this. She couldn't see her father getting _very_ angry, but he was bound to be saddened by Shawn's most recent life decision. Her father always looked especially elderly when he was sad. Still, he would need someone to comfort him later. She'd make herself available then.

"What's he gonna say?" Daryl asked her in undertone as Shawn disappeared into the house.

Beth shrugged, "It depends on Shawn's reason, I think. If he's got a good reason than dad'll be more understanding—if it's just that it's _hard_ and he's a quitter, than he'll get called out on that. I bet they'll try to talk him into headin' back, either way."

"What's a good reason?" Daryl took a couple of steps up onto the porch and leaned back against the railing, it was only than that she realized how tense he'd been since the second she'd seem him standing there, but finally he was starting to look a little more comfortable in his new surroundings.

She shrugged again, preoccupied by the sudden thought that she'd fit well, right up against him. Reclining in front of her, it was tempting to get closer. "I uh… I guess if he genuinely knew that it wasn't right for him. Otherwise… it's just 'cause he's scared or angry or lazy. That won't be good enough for my dad."

Beth was half-listening for voices inside the house, but her father rarely yelled and she doubted this would be a moment for that. All the same, she did think it was best to hang back. She picked up her backpack off the ground and dusted it off, then set it on a chair on the porch and returned to where Daryl was waiting by the stairs.

She'd been so worried that he wouldn't show up, but now that he'd come she was still worried. What did it mean? Did she have a design in getting him here? It felt like she did, but she was having trouble grasping the shape of it in her mind. She only knew that something told her that he belonged here. Since she'd first seen him standing on her porch she'd been fighting the urge to throw her arms around him again. The knowledge that he hadn't precisely appreciated it the last time held her back, along with the close proximately of her family.

She sauntered as close to him as she dared at the moment, watching him carefully as he tensed up again, eyes following. She turned at the last minute, sitting back on the railing next to him. "So, what happened?" she asked mildly. "You don't have to tell me anything—but if you wanna—"

"It was just ugly, s'all," he mumbled. "I don't even really understand what happened, but I can guess. Jer and his crew weren't the only ones who knew 'bout the shipment. We crossed paths with others who wanted 'em. Merle was on the secure side of the lot. That's where I heard trouble. By the time I got there—wasn't much to see."

But something in his voice made her think he wasn't being entirely honest. Maybe there wasn't much to see that he wanted to talk about, but he'd seen something.

"…I let out, 'cause by then we'd attracted too much attention. Cops were on their way. Merle was already gone." He rubbed at the stubble on his cheek, glancing at the doorway of the house again.

She looked down at his other hand, gripping the railing next to her, knuckles pale. Tentative at first, but then with firmness, she slid her fingers over the top of his hand. "He'll be here soon… I'm glad you're okay."

Looking at her sideways, she couldn't quite read his expression this time, but he wasn't shying away from her, which seemed to be a good sign. She felt his hand shift under hers and eased back, at first thinking that he was trying to pull away, but then he turned his palm up and laced his fingers through hers.

He gave her the shivers, but she could tell from looking at his face that he didn't have any idea. His calloused hand pulsed against her own. Then, as quickly as he'd dared to take a hold of her, he let go—the front door opened and Otis came onto the porch. She noticed Daryl quickly running his hand down the side of his pant-leg, as he got to his feet.

"Sorry, took a minute to find the right stuff," Otis held up a small collection of paperwork and groped around his front pocket for a pen, gesturing for Daryl to follow him. He clearly hadn't seen anything, from the blasé way that he walked right past the pair of them to the steps.

Daryl turned to follow him, giving Beth a nod as he reluctantly descended the steps. She smiled, though she felt a pointed dissatisfaction that they couldn't talk longer. She watched them walk away, oblivious to the fact that she wasn't alone on the porch until her mother cleared her throat.

"Oh! Hi. You scared me," her heart thumped loudly against her ribs. "Is it bad in there?" she shifted her eyes to the house indicating the inevitable confrontation between her brother and her father.

Annette stood with her arms crossed, watching Otis and Daryl heading in the direction of Daryl's truck with a blank, worrisome look on her face. "Not_ bad_," she said with a forlorn sigh, "Just intense. I thought I'd let them say their words. I think I can already make up both sides of the conversation for myself in my own head. They've each gotta say their peace." She walked over to Beth, sliding an arm across her shoulder and turning her around to appreciate the view of their land.

Otis was having Daryl move his truck to the other side of the road, a sure indication that he would be sticking around for a little while.

"That's the new hire? He's kind of adorable…" her mother's smile widened, Beth suspected because she'd noticed the pink tinge in her daughter's cheeks, "Ya know, in the way like he's got himself left out in the cold so often he doesn't notice it anymore."

Her mothers' were the eyes she needed to be most careful about. The others might be wrapped up in their own worlds enough that they wouldn't see that there was anything more to Daryl's arrival on the farm, but her mother was another story. Her sensitive perception had been both a bane and a boon to every member of their family. "Yeah, I get that vibe too," Beth responded to her mother after doing a quick, full body assessment—was she twiddling? Doing anything that might give away nerves?

"You weren't out here alone with him, were you?"

"Just for a minute," Beth thought her voice got a little too high and tried to reign it in with a cough that she was afraid her mother would be able to read, "I didn't wanna go inside right away 'cause of Shawn."

"You know the rules," Her mother squeezed her protectively, giving her a sideways frown. "Not unless your dad or Otis are around."

"Sorry, I wasn't thinkin'," Beth lied, "But what was I supposed to do, wait in the car?"

Her mom gave a snort of laughter at that, "We've got these rules for a reason, doodlebug. I'm sorry if they're a little inconvenient sometimes, I really am." She kissed the side of her head, "Can't let my baby girl get too close to the cute new hire."

Beth blushed at that, trying to hide her face away by pretending to be fascinated in something around the side of the house. "His name's Daryl," she said between barely loosed teeth, "and he seems like a good guy."

"I reckon you're right," her mother chuckled again, "If that's what you're reading, then good… but you know it ain't so much about _that_, as it's all about boundaries. This is our home, but it's also our business." It was usually her father who said things like this, but Annette seemed to have swallowed his words whole, "By and by, strangers come along and we've gotta make sure the lines don't get blurred. Being invited onto the farm doesn't mean being invited into the home. It's better for everyone and it's fair for everyone."

"Yeah, you're right," she knew that now was not the time to try and convince her mother that Daryl Dixon was any type of prospect. Her family didn't know him yet. She'd just have to be patient, and also… secretive. She wanted him here. She got him here. She was sure as hell going to do something about it. "I know you're right—just, like you said; inconvenient."

"Hmm," Annette tucked a few wild hairs back behind her daughter's ear, tugging on the lobe.

For a second, Beth bit her bottom lip to try and stop herself from getting one last word in. After an internal struggle she finally said, "But you know—I dated _Jimmy_ for eight months and he was working here for some of that—"

"That was different," said Annette, firmly. "You know it was. You had two classes with him at school and we've known Jimmy's family for ages. Local boys who come to work for the harvest—fine, you can be alone with them. During the daylight hours. Outside. Not in your bedroom," she let out a short laugh at Beth's growing indignation. "You gotta let me tease you—it's my job."

"I thought that was Shawn's job?"

"He's my apprentice."

Rolling her eyes, Beth was ready to officially give up for the day, quietly reaffirming her previous conviction that she was going to have to be sneaky; getting to know Daryl better was going to involve some covert operations.

Daryl and Otis looked like they were preparing to head right out and get to work. Daryl stripped his jacket off and threw it in the back of his truck with the motorcycle. He'd hacked the sleeves of his shirt off and so she caught the merest glimpse of ink on the inside of one arm. She'd been right about him having at least one tattoo. In spite of her mother still watching her, she smirked.

"'Sides," said Annette, her tone changed from playful to serious so quickly that it gave Beth whiplash, "He's a bit old for you."

"You're right," she said again, but a note of sarcasm was already working its way into her voice, "how could I even think of carrying on with a man who might be some years older than me? Shameful," she fought a smile as her eyes shifted over to take in her mother's reddening face.

Annette's regard narrowed at her daughter. "Cheeky," but she laughed, "Alright, I'll make you a deal—when you reach your thirties, you have my permission to marry a widowed farmer in his fifties."

A storm was rolling in. The sun's light dimmed all at once. Beth glanced up at the sky and then at her mother. Together they headed back into the house to assess the damage. Once her mother's eyes weren't fixed on her any longer, Beth pulled her cell-phone out of her pocket and sent a text to Maggie.

_He's here._

* * *

The sun was beating down on their backs. Dave had already stripped his shirt off and had it half-way stuffed into his back pocket. He ripped it free and wiped a steady trickling of sweat from off his forehead. "Its times like this I miss Philly," he confessed.

Daryl was more or less used to being around guys who talked a lot. Dave was just another voice to fill the air, rarely saying much of interest, and requiring no feedback. Daryl felt free to keep working, digging out the posts of the fence that needed to be replaced.

"Well—not that Philly is specifically different, but more like I missed the air-conditioned life, ya know? Worked in a garage in Philly, 'til the boss and my lady kicked me out the same week. But one don't inform the other, right?" Dave chuckled darkly.

From the road, a small school-bus rolled closer. It wasn't from the district, for sure. By the looks of it, they'd let the kids take part in the paint-job, but over the top of the smattering of color and finger-painting was the moniker _Little Learner's Weekend Club._ Otis had mentioned off-handed that kids' groups came to see the farm from time to time and learn more about the animals and how things were run.

"Working in the garage," Dave kept talking, glaring up at the sky for a moment as he paused in shoveling to take a breath. "It was dirty, but at least it wasn't hot… where you headed?"

Barely pausing, Daryl finally looked up at his fellow farmhand, "For now, nowhere."

"Right," Dave snatched up his nearly empty water-bottle from the ground to get a drink, "'Spose that's me too. I keep thinking about Mexico in the back of my mind—but I dunno." After testing a few drops on his tongue, he unceremoniously tossed the rest of the water onto his neck, it was probably warm. "Come on, let's refill," Dave gestured to Daryl's own empty bottle.

Dave threw his soaked shirt back on during the short walk to the nearest well. The bus had parked and a group of about a dozen kids poured out. Daryl could see Hershel, Shawn and Beth coming to greet them. Beth waved enthusiastically at the kids. Even from a distance he could tell that she was wearing a big smile. Watching her like this tugged at him.

It was hard for him to explain to himself what he was feeling, or what he was doing. He wanted to understand, but it was like learning a new language. The day before when he'd held her hand, it almost felt like someone else had taken control.

All week he'd been consumed by fear and uncertainty. He'd forgotten to eat, barely slept. He just kept moving, going through the motions, trying to cover his tracks and look for his brother at the same time. He'd finally headed in the direction of the farm, cracked and breaking. It was all nearly unconscious, unaware behavior.

He didn't do well on his own.

He was still in tumult when he tried to use as few words as possible to explain a little bit about that night to Beth. He hadn't been prepared for her to react that way; compassion. When she touched him, everything slowed down and he'd wanted to return the simple gesture. For half a second he couldn't imagine himself being that way with her, and then he didn't need to, because his hand had acted for him; utterly unafraid when it came down to it.

But still actually terrified.

…Maybe he shouldn't have come here.

That doubt didn't last long under the beating light of the sun, with Beth ushering a dozen children towards the chicken coops. Where else would he go? There was legitimate work here, his brother knew where to find him, and it was safe and isolated.

All of that helped solidify his resolve to stay.

However, if he was being honest with himself, he would have stayed regardless. He wanted to be here.

He wanted to be close to her.

"_We've got some baby chicks, that are just barely old enough that you can touch them, but only if you're very careful_!" even across the distance, he heard Beth talking to the kids, her voice was drowned out in a hail of excited squeals and chatter.

An older woman at the back of the pack encouraged them to be quiet, "_Boys and girls, what'd we talk 'bout on the bus? Be respectful and listen to Beth or ya won't get a turn to touch the baby chicks_."

Dave smacked his arm to pull his attention back to the well. A smirk of his face told Daryl that he'd been staring too obviously at the girl, but Dave didn't comment on it, "Hold the bottle, I'll fill," he muttered.

They each took turns dousing their heads and getting their fill at the pump, then took their time heading back to their work. Their break for lunch felt like it had been days ago, but when Daryl checked the position of the sun, he figured they'd only been back to working for a couple of hours. Not nearly long enough to start complaining. All the same, it was hot. Dave called out to another farmhand who Daryl hadn't met yet—a heavy guy who was soaking wet under the sun.

"Hey Tony, ya feeling fresh?"

"Screw you, Dave."

Not wanting to play the introduction game again, Daryl took his water and ambled as casually as he could in the direction of the chicken coop, taking shelter under some shade, just outside the enclosure. He watched a bit of Beth's lesson from the back of the little crowd of anxious ten-year-olds.

The kids had taken their supervisor's advice and were all standing quietly, save for a pair of boys at the back who another adult had taken the liberty of standing between with a hand on each shoulder; but still they tried to poke at one another from behind her back.

At the front of the pack, Beth leaned down with a baby chick in her hands so all the kids could see it. "…No, the eggs that you eat for breakfast wouldn't become baby chicks if you put them under a lamp, but that's a good question. Only _some_ eggs will hatch, not the ones you buy at a store and this is actually a very special lamp—can anyone tell me what its call?"

A little girl out front raised her hand that a shot into the air, "Incubator," she said before Beth even had the chance to look up at her.

"That's very good! What your name?"

"Penny,"

"You can come touch the chick first Penny, but be _very_ careful. Use soft fingers, like this."

As Penny came forward, Beth's eyes flickered up. The corner of her mouth pulling into a tiny smile as she caught Daryl's eye. There she went, stopping time again. He was a little better equipped to enjoy the effect now. For the moment, he forgot that she was a teenager and he was dirty old redneck. He forgot all the awkward moments they'd suffered together, the accusations and assumptions, the things that Merle said about her to get his mind reeling, he forgot his own guilt and was able, however briefly to bask in the simple fact that she was smiling for him. There didn't need to be any baggage to it—and it was like she'd put her arms around him all over again.

The heady moment ended abruptly with the sound of an approaching car. His eyes automatically shifted to the road as the golden Saturn pulled deftly into the shade in front of the house. Maggie Greene. He'd known some frightened people in his life, but he wasn't sure he'd ever felt this particular jolt of panic at the mere sight of someone before. Would she say anything to the rest of the family about him? He'd always known that it was a possibility, but he hadn't expected her to arrive so quickly. It had to be because of the situation with Shawn. His dropping out of school and coming home had prompted her to pay a visit.

Instead of going towards the house, she approached the chicken coop as well. Her father was standing in the shade of a tree nearby, watching from a distance, but he turned to greet his daughter when she got close enough. From the expression on his face it didn't look like he'd been expecting her. Maggie gave her father a one-armed hug. It might have been his imagination, but it seemed like her eyes found Daryl standing just outside the coop, as she said a few words to Hershel.

In a futile effort at retreat, Daryl strode back towards Dave. It was too soon after their meal to take a break anyway.

When he turned back to where he'd left Dave he found nothing but thin air. He'd vanished along with the other farmhand, Tony. He scanned the area but couldn't find them, and finally resigned to return to dig out the old fence on his own. He'd much rather have stayed and watched Beth try and teach the kids about chickens, but with both her father and her sister keeping watch, and it only being his second day on the job, he didn't want to push it.

He was about half-way back the field when he heard a voice call out "Hey, Daryl."

Over his shoulder he saw Maggie coming towards him. She was wearing a nice skirt and blouse again, carrying her shoes in one hand so that she could travel quickly across the fields in her bare feet. She must have run to catch him. He threw his eyes around, but no one else was close—just figures in the distance, exiting a chicken coop. Once again, he was alone with a Greene daughter, which was strictly forbidden.

Ashamed, he wished it was the other one.

As if reading his mind, Maggie narrowed her green gaze at him. "You and I need to chat," she crossed her arms, flipping her high-heeled shoes over one elbow.

"We gotta?" grumbled Daryl, peering past her to make absolutely sure that Hershel couldn't see what was going on; he was too far away and surrounded by a crowd of children.

"Beth ain't a child anymore, but she doesn't have my experience," said Maggie, raising her eyebrows. "I wanna make sure you're here to work'n that's all. She's a good girl, and I'll be nice enough to refrain from mentioning to daddy that you're a junkie drifter who man-handled his youngest, as long as you remember _she's a good girl._"

_Shit. We're off to a hell of a start._ "Go on and say everythin' you gotta say," he offered in a gruff voice.

Maggie's face darkened at that, for a moment he could visibly see her temper flaring up behind those pale eyes, but with a shallow hiss of a breath between her teeth, she somehow managed to reign it in. When she spoke again, she almost sounded civil. "I can usually trust her judgment. She's smart like that. She thinks you're alright."

Daryl couldn't do much more than shuffle uncomfortably on his feet and hoped that Dave turned up to derail this 'chat'.

"That's the only reason I didn't run you over. I know a lot of lawyers… could probably get away with it."

Having been on the receiving end of numerous threats, Daryl had picked up a sense for when someone was being genuine and when they were just posturing. Maggie's threat landed in a strange zone, he couldn't tell whether she was warning him, just trying to scare him or _joking_ with him.

"Much obliged?" he furrowed his brow at her.

"I _want_ to like you, but right now I can't," she glanced back at the kids group, now making their way towards where the horses were kept. "Someone's gotta air on the side of caution. From the looks of things, it won't be Beth."

He managed to meet her eyes and shook his head, "I ain't that guy."

A small frown appeared on Maggie's face, "Then what are you?"

His mind drew an absolute blank. He couldn't define himself on cue. He didn't think about it enough. "I'm just… here. Right now," he cringed, knowing he sounded ignorant and nervous.

Strangely, Maggie didn't seem to take it that way. She searched him, mouth a tight line for a moment, then with a sigh she said, "Well. Fine. Just know, if _I_ can see it, they'll all pick up on it sooner or later; you look at everyone one way, and my sister, another."

* * *

**I do think that Maggie will in fact ship the Bethyl on the show. I think she will ship it hard.**

**But, non-Apocalypse Maggie doesn't know Daryl real well yet... She's got worldly concerns.**

**Also, look, more cameos! So, confession, I did actually try and find Penny's official age. The Walking Dead Wiki says 11-12, but I've totally got trust issues with the Walking Dead Wiki. Maybe that's how old the actress was, or something? Anyway, I would have placed Penny at a younger age. In this, she's ten.**

**Thanks again to everyone who's been reviewing! I'm sorry I haven't replied to any reviews from these last few chapters, my internet access has been limited, but hopefully that will improve. I really appreciate getting feedback from you all, I hope you're enjoying the story:)**

**Wonderwall – Oasis**


	13. Lost in the Woods

"I can't believe you _did_ that," Beth's voice dropped to a hush and she shook her head, avoiding Maggie's gaze. The two of them were sitting on the front porch. Nearby one of the_ Little Learner_ supervisors was gathering the snacks from the back of the bus for the children, but he wasn't close enough to hear them.

"Somebody had to come out and say it. You wanna keep this a secret from mom and dad—I understand that, but it puts me in a bit of a compromising position. I can't just sit back and wait for—"

"Wait for what? What do ya think is gonna happen?" Beth laughed shortly, "I _like_ him, and I think he might like me and none of it has gotta involve _you,_ or anyone else. You say I'm not a kid anymore—so stop treating me like one."

"You met the guy a week ago at his dealer's house," Maggie reminded her, "You can't blame me for bein' a bit concerned. Don't matter how old you are—if we swapped places, you'd feel the same way about it."

"No, 'cause I trust you." She didn't even have to think about it, so Beth answered automatically, looking her sister right in the eye.

For a moment, Maggie only glared at her with a tight jaw. "I'm concerned, Beth."

"I'm _mortified_ Maggie. I can't believe you said all that to him," she shook her head again, waves of nausea had been flowing over her the entire time Maggie was telling her story. She felt overwarm and couldn't just blame it on the sudden humidity. It had been hard enough as it was, with Daryl being so closed off. After getting a dressing-down from her older sister, how long would it be before he'd so much as speak to her again? "You've judged him before you've ever even talked to him."

"I've talked—"

"Ya talked _at_ him—yelled at him, from the sounds of it. That's all. You don't know him."

"And you do?" Maggie raised a doubting eyebrow.

"Yeah." Unable to put her frustration into any more words than that, Beth concentrated on the lands around them. She'd lost sight of the kids, but right about now Shawn was supposed to be showing them the cattle before they got their snack. After that, they'd play a few games and be on their way. It was unusual for a group like this to come any other time than around harvest, but her father had said that it was a newer organization, still trying out ideas.

From the direction of the fence that needed to come down, she saw Otis and Daryl approaching. They were still far enough away that she might have a few more minutes to tell Maggie off before they were within earshot, but she couldn't think of anything else to say and so instead she just seethed.

Maggie surveyed her younger sister's anger with ever-growing concern, "I was nice about it."

Beth could only glare in response.

"As nice as ya can be," Maggie's face reddened as she raised and lowered one shoulder guiltily. "You're a high school girl. Why can't you like a high school guy?"

Otis and Daryl were getting closer—they probably still wouldn't be able to hear them, but it was close enough that Beth felt she'd better spit out her last words on the topic.

"Just tell me honestly—you didn't come all the way here for this, did ya?" Beth didn't even want to touch the comment about high school boys. Maggie knew better than that. It wasn't like high school boys were angels; her older sister was just groping for any argument she could think of. "I mean you _are_ gonna talk to Shawn, right?"

"Of course. I'm tacklin' that next—after the kids leave. What's a school group doin' here on a Saturday anyway?" she frowned at the bus.

"They ain't a school group—it's some kinda community club… so instead of soccer on the weekends, they go places and learn..."

"It's more school."

"School ain't so bad," Beth lied.

They'd moved easily into the innocuous topic as the men grew near. Daryl wouldn't look at her, but he wasn't close enough quite yet for this to worry her. She hoped that Maggie hadn't rattled him. She'd felt like they were finally getting somewhere. She could still recall the rush of feeling she'd gotten when he took her hand the day before.

"You've made decent headway—no reason to waste any more effort on it today," she heard Otis telling Daryl. "Dave and Tony went to help Hershel with the horses. I hope you weren't out there workin' alone for too long."

"Nah, not long," he muttered, still he didn't look in her direction. As he turned so that his back was more to the house, she felt certain that he _had_ been affected by what Maggie said to him. His shoulders were slightly more rounded than before, though it could have just been exhaustion from the work. His sleeveless shirt was damp with sweat; poking out the side of one torn sleeve she could see more ink from a larger tattoo on his back. The muscles of his arms and his broad shoulders were especially noticeable after the exertion. Beth forgot to breathe for a moment, staring at his body.

It was Maggie's disapproving glower that snapped her out of her small daydream.

"Why don't you go see if Shawn needs—" Otis stopped speaking very suddenly, fixed on something around the side of the house.

Shawn appeared at a run, face white, sweating and she suspected not just from the heat, "Hey—please tell me there's a little girl hanging out at the house?" he begged.

No one had an immediately reply for him, but Beth's heart sank. "You lost a _kid_?"

"Technically, their supervisors lost them—" Shawn winced at the accusation, "too distracted with a couple of troublemakers. They didn't notice that she'd wandered off."

"She's not here," Maggie got to her feet and Beth followed suit, "Have you checked the barn yet?" she turned to head in that direction, but Shawn stopped her by nodding vigorously. "The house was the last place I checked."

"She knows not to amble into the woods?" Daryl cocked his head at the tree-line.

All Shawn could do to reply was swear under his breath.

"I'll get the farmer," muttered Daryl, he left at a quick pace.

"Come on—we should check this out," Maggie took Beth's arm and started to lead her down the stairs, "Otis, could you get Annette and Patricia?"

"Sure thing," Otis nodded to the girls as they took off at a jog.

It would only take them a few minutes to walk, but Maggie went to her car instead. They didn't want to waste any time. They drove in silence out to the field beside the cattle pen. As they approached, Beth could see one of the supervisors trying to orchestrate some kind of a game with the children, keeping them all close together. The other adults had vanished, probably looking for the girl.

"Does everyone have a partner?" the supervisor asked, raising a hand to get their attention. "That's okay Jace, you can be _my_ partner—" she stopped short when she saw the girls approaching.

"Who's missing? And how long?" Beth asked at a shout as they drew nearer.

"Penny—we can't be sure how long, Alex said that she was bugging him about something she saw in the woods some fifteen minutes back—seems like that was the last anyone saw of her."

"You think she went into the woods?" Beth remembered the wolf-pack and tried not to let the panic show on her face, though she could feel the blood leaving it.

"She _knows_ better," said the supervision, shaking her head, but she looked worried too. "She likes dogs—maybe she went to the barn where that old one was sleeping?"

"Yeah, maybe," said Beth, feeling more worried by the second. "Where are your people looking?"

"They went back to the chicken coop and the barn about three minutes ago, when your brother didn't come back."

Maggie sighed heavily and tossed her keys to Beth, then leaned in and whispered in undertone, "I'm gonna stay here and try to contain this train-wreck. You head back to the house and check with everyone, I've got my cell-phone, call if they've found her."

As she walked away she heard Maggie asking the supervisor if she had the number to contact the girl's folks.

Beth arrived at her front porch again to find Hershel with everyone gathered together, organizing them into smaller search parties. "We'll have to double-check every inch of the property, but someone's got to go into the woods _now_ just in case that is where she went, and she's gotten lost."

Daryl volunteered without a word, merely nodding to Hershel and then walking straight past Beth, close enough that she could have gripped his arm if she dared, but with her family's eyes on her, she didn't.

"Wait—I'll go too," Beth turned to follow after Daryl.

He stopped short, glancing back at her over his shoulder, hands curling into fists.

"No, Bethy—we need you here," said her mother.

Unsure if that was strictly true, Beth knew it wasn't the time to argue, "Then I'll at least give him a ride out to where she probably woulda gone." She raised her hand with Maggie's keys still dangling from her thumb, "Come on, we're wasting time."

"Otis—go with them," Hershel seemed to agree with her.

Her dad continued to divide up the rest of the household and farmhands into smaller groups, telling them which sections of the property each team was to search.

Before they reached Maggie's car, Daryl ran ahead to where his truck was parked and pulled a hefty-looking crossbow fitted with a few extra bolts from out of the cab.

"What're you thinkin' you're gonna need that for?" Otis asked, but he knew the answer full well, Beth could tell from the nervous way that he rubbed at his beard.

"Hopefully nothin'," was Daryl's gruff reply as he slung the weapon over his shoulder.

Otis took the shotgun seat in Maggie's car, while Daryl climbed into the backseat, leaning forward between the two front seats to watch the road. Beth took them quickly to the far field.

"…Ya got a knife too? And a phone?" Otis asked, checking that he had his own.

"I got a knife, no phone though," said Daryl, not waiting until the car slowed to a complete stop before he opened the door and poured out.

Otis and Beth were right behind him. A few hundred yards away, the kids were eerily quiet as their supervisor spoke on the phone to someone—presumably the girl's parents, and Maggie stood nearby, as sentinel.

Beth walked with them all the way to the tree-line. Daryl looked like he was poised to rush right into the forest and begin the search, but Otis caught him by the arm.

"We oughta split up, cover more ground—but with you not havin' a phone—"

"Here, take mine," Beth pulled her cell out of her pocket and held it out to Daryl. "Otis and everyone else is in there already, anyway."

He hesitated for a moment. He still hadn't looked at her directly since Maggie's speech, but now that she'd put herself right in front of him, he gave in. He took the phone from her, his fingers brushing her skin lightly, leaving her with those shivers again. "Thanks," finally his eyes met hers, but he was cautious now, more so than he'd been before. The smoldering instant wasn't enough to satisfy her, but she swallowed and backed up, there would be time to worry about all that once Penny was safe and sound.

"I gotta head back—daddy probably wants me to check all my old hiding spots. You two be safe. Call often." She started to walk away backwards, as the two men nodded their goodbyes and headed into the woods in tandem. In a few yards they split off in separate directions.

As Beth got in the car, she noticed the humidity again, thicker than before. They needed to find that little girl fast. If she was lost in the woods, she would easily get caught in the midst of a coming storm.

* * *

Just minutes into his search Daryl caught a break in the form of fresh tracks. They weren't the clumsy branded tracks of a little girl's shoes, however, but two sets of dainty hooves, one significantly smaller than the other, walking together. A mother and a fawn; even a little girl who knew better than to wander off into the woods might be tempted to get a closer look at something like that. Daryl smirked to himself; he'd been that kind of kid.

He followed the trail backwards a while, to see if the deer had come close enough to be seen from the field. They had veered at an odd angle, so the trial was longer than he expected, but sure enough, as he neared the field, he found what were unmistakably shoe-tracks, small enough to belong to a child, probably wearing tennis shoes.

He flipped through Beth's contacts until he found Otis' number, "Hey, Otis."

"Daryl? Ya find her?" He answered.

"Found her tracks, looks like she's headin' east."

"Ya sure?" He already sounded a little winded, "Alright—don't wait for me," he added without pausing for a response.

"She couldn't have gotten far. Legs ain't long enough," he knew that wasn't, strictly speaking, true, but someone needed to express a little positivity and from the vibes he was catching around the farm, Shawn and a few others were at the point of calling the police; they shouldn't have to resort to that.

Her tracks snaked around tentatively after the deer. She must have been trying to keep her distance, didn't want to spook them. As he followed after her trail he kept an eye out for animals. He wasn't as legitimately worried about running into wolves, as he was, searching for an opportunity to catch himself some dinner. He'd probably just have to go later. He hadn't gotten paid yet, and didn't really want to spend his little pile of cash just yet.

First thing after signing him up all official Otis had asked Daryl if he needed help with accommodations. They had some space, a few trailers set up on the opposite field as the horses where workers occasionally were allowed to stay. He'd quickly said no, without even considering it. Told some quick lie about having a place to stay in town; his gut response was that a little distance between himself and the farm would come in handy if this thing with Hershel's youngest daughter ever got out of hand. After listening to Maggie, he was starting to feel like maybe that caution wasn't necessary. Beth had a small army looking out for her, headed up by General Big Sister.

He'd set up in the woods instead of in their quarters, after he found a decent place where his truck wouldn't be discovered. He'd lived like this before. Merle didn't like it much, but Daryl didn't mind the isolation or the lack of conveniences. He felt calmer; more in control.

At least, that's what he told himself.

If he was feeling in a truthful mood, Daryl had to admit privately to himself that the Greene family bothered him a little. They were so happy, even when they were pissing each other off. He knew there was some unfairness to resenting people for being content and compassionate with one another, so he tried to stanch the feeling. It was a dynamic he couldn't relate to, couldn't have imagined previously, and was still having a hard time understanding, even as he watched it from the outside.

And in the middle of it, there was Beth; big blue eyes that noticed more than he wanted them to, soft voice and soft lips.

He'd never belong with someone like her.

Unconsciously, he'd been moving more quickly than was typical as he followed the trail. He took note of where the deer had veered off one direction and Penny, another. She must have lost sight of the mother and fawn, and tried to head back to the farm, but her sense of direction had gotten all jumbled in the trees. He saw where she turned around, and then were she took a wrong turn, heading down a rough path in the woods that led further away from the fields where her friends had last seen her.

Earlier, he'd noticed the humidity, but tried not to think too much about what it indicated. The sky crackled overheard and he swore under his breath as the wind picked up. It had been getting worse over the last ten minutes or so, messing with the trail. As fat raindrops started to fall, he knew they were in trouble. Not one week ago, heavy rain had been his saving grace, hiding his own flight into another wood; now it had just made everything a hell of a lot worse.

In minutes, there was nothing more to see on the ground. The rain had taken whatever trail might have been and washed it away. With nothing to go on, Daryl kept marching.

* * *

**Beth finally tells Maggie what's up and Daryl is in a familiar situation... looking for a little girl in the woods. This chapter is a little shorter than I had intended, but I should have the next one up soon. My internet access is still limited, in that I only tend to have it for a few minutes a day:( So, once again, I'm sorry I haven't replied to your reviews, but I love you guys! Thank you so much for your support, kind words, suggestions. You absolutely do affect what directions I take things, have no doubt.**

**Hopefully, I'll get this internet thing figured out soon, in the mean time, I'm trying to get a few chapters ahead, so I can continue with consistent updates. Thanks so much!**

**Leaving Tonight – The Birthday Massacre**


	14. Eaten By Leopards

**To the Guest who made the comment about Maggie calling Daryl a junkie... I think I mentioned a couple of sections ago how I've got trust issues with the Walking Dead Wiki? That's a minor example of one of the details I take issue with. They use the world 'junkie' to describe Daryl before the Apocalypse. I actually had Maggie use that word, precisely because of this entry on the wiki. It bothers me.**

* * *

"Let me talk to him," Beth made a swipe for Maggie's phone, but her sister had it out of her reach in a flash and was walking backwards, narrowly avoiding the edge of the coffee table.

"Maggie—stop," Beth hissed through her teeth.

But Maggie shook her head and took another long stride backwards in the living room, putting her in the dangerous range, they were both be visible to Annette and Hershel who were sitting in the kitchen with Mr. Blake.

"_Be nice to him!_" Beth mouthed to her sister.

Maggie only rolled her eyes as she waited with the phone up by her ear.

Fuming, Beth crossed her arms and could only shake her head at her sister, in disbelief.

"Daryl?" Maggie wore a pained expression, "Can you hear me?" The rain was bad. It must have been muffling their voices. Beth couldn't hear much of a response at all from Daryl's end. "Yeah… actually, we did call the cops," said Maggie, biting each word.

She hated that Maggie was still treating them like this. It wasn't like she was trying to talk to Daryl on the phone because of a crush—she didn't think he should have to talk to Maggie when there was still his conflict between them; also, he was less likely to hang up on Beth.

"They got here about fifteen minutes ago. I'm just callin' to give ya a head's up. Looks like they want you to come back…" Maggie paused a moment, "What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Her demeanor changed abruptly. "'Cause it ain't safe—it's _flood_ season." Her expression cracked, but Beth couldn't tell whether it was shock and anger or shock and confusion that mussed her features. "Look, I'm just tellin' ya what the cops are probably gonna—" Maggie stopped short as one of the officer's appeared beside them in the living room.

"Is this the tracker?" he asked in a stage whisper, pointing to the phone.

"Here—Daryl, you gotta hear it from them now," Maggie handed the phone to the officer, a tall, good-looking guy who was maybe a little too young for the rank indicated on his badge.

"Hello, Mr. Dixon? Listen, this is Sheriff Pete Dolgen. We really appreciate your efforts to locate Penny, but we're here to take over now, and with this storm as bad as it is—" abruptly Officer Pete stopped talking. His brow knit, his cheeks flushed as he pulled the phone away and looked at in incredulously.

Beth bit her lips, afraid to know what precisely Daryl had said to the man to cause that reaction, but after a second Officer Pete handed the phone back to Maggie and said, "He hung up on me?"

She had to fight not to laugh, "Bad connection maybe?" Beth tried to defend him weakly, but she knew that wouldn't be it. Daryl wasn't planning to come back without Penny.

Maggie gave her a look that said she knew she was lying, but Officer Pete gave her the benefit of the doubt, nodding, "Try him again?" he suggested.

With a sigh, Maggie redialed, but was left hanging for only the space of about ten seconds and then the phone chirped, using the same alert that Beth had set up to let her know when someone had sent her a text message.

Maggie looked at the phone, her eyebrows climbing higher and her cheeks going a little bit pink. She cleared her throat and read it allowed for them, "Daryl says_—Can't hear. Rain. Battery dying. Ima turn this off._"

Officer Pete sighed, but if he didn't buy it, he didn't express that belief as he walked away from them. Beth watched him go, knowing full well that her phone was fully charged when she gave it to Daryl.

"Hmm," Maggie was still staring at her phone with a peculiar expression on her face.

"What?" Beth couldn't quite read her in this moment, which was rare.

"Nothin'," Maggie shrugged, voice suddenly very mild, "It's just… I'm kinda impressed with how Daryl handled that."

Beth wasn't all that surprised that Daryl had worked out a way to stay out in the woods looking for Penny. She'd expected as much from him, but all the same, as the rain beat the windows, she couldn't help but worry for both of them. "I hope he finds her," she murmured as she walked away from Maggie.

* * *

In a futile attempt to keep it from getting as soaked as he was, Daryl wrapped Beth's phone in his handkerchief and put it into his pocket. Thunder shook the sky as torrents of chilled water rushed unevenly through the leaves overhead. The ground was slick and muddy in on higher ground, and under a few inches of running water in the low spots. It leaked into his shoes, ran through his eyes and stuck his hair to his face. It was still a while before dusk but the sky overhead darkened steadily. He might as well be tracking after dark in a hurricane. He knew that there was an argument to be made for why he should listen to the cops and head back. The chances of finding her tonight in this mess weren't good at all… but they were non-existent if he just left. He's carved a mark into a tree right near where he trail went cold, he could show the cops where that was and let them handle it. But he didn't know how long it would be before they got their shit together and made it out this far.

"Damn stupid girl," he muttered, wiping the streams of rain out of his eyes. There was no trail to follow, no signs; just water and mud and trees. With nothing to go on but his gut he tried to assess the terrain. It was a ways from the farm. If she'd made it this far she might have tried to change direction again, but up-hill wasn't likely. It was steep enough to tire her out, so she probably would have veered downhill.

As he headed down the hill he noticed the water-level steadily climbing. Through the trees, a narrow rushing river was coursing by, sweeping the weaker of the flora with it. The creek was flooding over. She wouldn't have wanted to get close to that, so he put some distance between himself and the rising water.

Through the steady chopping sound of the rain he barely made out a high-pitched whimper. "PENNY!" Another roar of thunder punctuated his shout, but once the rumbling stopped he heard her scream.

He followed the sound until a peculiar sight caught his attention. A small girl was dangling from a branch at about his eye-level, fifty yards downhill.

Penny's teeth were chattering and as she managed to regain her balance back on top of her branch, she turned and looked at him, face fearful. She was sniffling and from her ragged breathing he could guess that at least half the moisture on her face was tears. "Come on sweetheart, I'll help you down," he reached out to her.

She shook her head, clinging more tightly to the tree. "My shoes—it's getting in my shoes," she shuddered.

"I'll carry ya, so your feet don't get wet—come on, we gotta go." Before he'd even finished his sentence she'd been won over, with one little hand she steadied herself against his shoulder and he helped her down into his arms, folding her face into his shoulder as she started to sob in earnest.

* * *

In the kitchen, Hershel and Annette did their best to comfort a distraught Mr. Blake. It was bizarre to see her History teacher outside of his classroom, and to see him so wracked with guilt and worry. He'd arrived just seconds after the police—Beth suspected that if the cops hadn't been here to stop him, he would have torn into the woods to search for his daughter himself. Mr. Blake was a tall, well-built man with touches of grey coming into his pale, well-set hair and a face that rested in a frown when he wasn't forcing himself to smile genially.

Objectively, she _could_ see what Karen found so attractive about him, but personally, she'd always found him to merely be intimidating, in a very sexless way. Not to mention, he'd once taught a lecture about the Donner Party with such enthusiasm that it made her skin crawl for the rest of the week.

He looked up when she came into the kitchen, not bothering to force his normal false smile; he nodded in acknowledgment of her. "Beth."

"She'll be okay, Mr. Blake."

"Is anyone even out there looking?" She hadn't seen it before, but now she could catch a kind of tremor in his eyes, not like he was about to cry, but more like he was barely containing a shudder of anger. "I see a lot of badges and guns in my way and none of them are doing anything."

"The police are organizing a search party, I talked to them," said Hershel, eyes shifting to the hallway. Officer Pete was with a few other uniforms, speaking in hushed voices. Outside the front windows, the falling rain distorted the flashing lights of two of the police cruisers.

"They'll find her," said Annette softly.

"Why aren't they out there yet?" his hand shook as he brought it up to his sweating brow.

"If you like, I'll go ask them," Hershel offered, a hard look was in his eyes that Beth had only seen on a few other occasions. Her father's temper was a force to be reckoned with, especially since his rage usually fell under in the category of 'righteous anger'.

"I'll go with you—" Mr. Blake started to stand up, but Annette caught his arm, shaking her head.

"I wouldn't," she said with a tenderness that was usually reserved for children and stray dogs and cats, "Might get yourself in trouble." Her mother's soft hand on his clenched fist was an odd sight for Beth, she felt the urge to separate them and perhaps Annette sensed it, because she stood up as well, following after Hershel with a backwards glance at her daughter that said clearly 'take care of him'.

Beth sat down across from her History teacher, "Someone _is_ out there looking for her."

"One man," Mr. Blake shook his head, unimpressed.

"He's a tracker. He found her trail before the rain started. He's headed in the right direction, at least."

"That's—"

"Something," Beth forced his statement into a more positive finish than she suspected he had planned. "She hasn't been gone long."

"A lot can happen in a single instant," Mr. Blake countered.

"And sometimes nothing happens," Beth pointed out. "She's counting on you to have faith. To take her home and tuck her in. She'll be exhausted after today."

That shut him up for a few minutes only. She couldn't imagine what he was suffering; worrying about his only child, lost in the woods with a pack of wolves on the loose and flood season threatening from all sides.

"I had a psychology teacher in College… _years_ ago," murmured Mr. Blake, "I remember he told me once about shyness."

"Shyness?" Beth repeated, not sure she heard him right.

He nodded gradually, lifting his gaze to look at her eyes. "He talked about why some cultures the majority of people tend to shyness. He said that all the outgoing children wandered off into the jungle and got eaten by leopards. Eventually, shyness was all that survived."

She wasn't sure what to say to that, so Beth just stared at him, trying to work out what was going on in that mind of his. That Mr. Blake was intelligent, intellectual even, had never escaped her notice, but his perspective was harder for her to occupy.

"Penny's a shy girl," he laughed suddenly, without sound or humor, just a Cheshire-cat grin for the floor at his feet, a hiss of air and he was upright again, looking at Beth like he expected an explanation.

"Well. With all due respect to your psychology teacher… did it ever occur to him that a shy kid might not go into the woods looking for adventure, but maybe just 'cause they wanted to be alone?" She wasn't sure precisely how that would make him feel better, but felt like taking his mind away from children being eaten by leopards—or wolves, as the case may be—should be her goal. "Doesn't really make sense as a theory."

"It's not like her to go off like that," Mr. Blake shook his head. He didn't seem to be listening. He was looking off into space. Beth followed his gaze to find her brother sitting in the living room.

Never before had Shawn looked so guilty. He blamed himself for not keeping a closer eye on the kids when he was taking them through the fields. But there was plenty of guilt to go around; Beth felt certain that the _Little Learner_ supervisors were racked somewhere, and Mr. Blake looked like he'd never let his daughter out of his sight again.

"She's shy. She's so shy. I wouldn't put it past her to hide from your dad's tracker, even if he does come upon her."

"He _will_," said Beth.

Mr. Blake looked up, a little surprised by her firmness. He scanned her from the toes of her boots up to her eyes in a flicker. "You look different when you aren't framed by your two minions."

"Minions?" Beth repeated with a laugh, "I ain't callin' the shots. Minnie and Karen…" she trailed off, finally shrugging when she gave up on describing their dynamic.

"Huh," Mr. Blake seemed to understand what she was thinking, even if his mind was far away, "That isn't how it appears."

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Yes, they can be."

Annette returned and Beth took the opportunity to escape the kitchen, she slithered back into the living room where Shawn was now totally alone, chewing on his thumbnail and watching the blue and red flashing raindrops on the window.

She sat down on the arm of the chair he was occupying, hunched forward, half watching him and half looking out the window.

"Shit," Shawn said under his breath. "_Shit._"

"Don't let mom or daddy hear ya," Beth advised.

"I'm going to be the worst dad," Shawn groaned into his hands.

She patted his back a little harder than was necessary. "Or, you'll be better now," she offered, "'Cause you won't let another kid outta your sight, ever again."

"It _was_ my fault," he admitted, "I was teaching them—they were supposed to all be looking at _me_, which means I shoulda been looking at them. I didn't even see her wander off. I can't even tell you when it happened. Zero attention." He shook his head, face deathly pale.

"You weren't the only adult there, and you _were_ the only one who didn't know the kids already. But that doesn't even matter. It doesn't do any good to assign blame. Who cares whose fault it is? We just gotta find her."

Shawn looked hopelessly out the window at the beating rain. She sat next to him in the silence for a long while, but he didn't say anything more on the subject. She knew she hadn't managed to change his mind yet, because his skin was still a sickly greenish color and he wasn't blinking enough, his eyes were bloodshot from stress. Part of her wondered if a little bit of guilt might be good for him to experience. She loved her brother, but any lessons he could learn in responsibility would be much appreciated by any future children he might have.

The storm seemed to have brought the night on early. Out the windows the storm gave the whole farm the illusion of night. The flashing lights burned all-the-brighter. The police had finally organized their gear together. Just as Officer Pete came looking for Hershel to come be their guide out to the wooded area, a shout from outside brought the whole lot of them to a stand-still, accept for Beth, who had a guess.

Sure enough, in the false-dusk that the torrents and the grey had pressed upon the farm, she could barely make out a figure approaching from the far field. No one tried to stop Mr. Blake as he whipped past every officer, and ran at full tilt to meet them.

Daryl had a petite, exhausted shape folded into his chest. Her arms hung around his neck. They were both heavy with water, and dyed sickly grey. Beth was just a few dozen yards behind Mr. Blake and so she got to witness when Daryl set Penny back onto her own feet, so that she could run the last several feet and fling herself into her father's arms. He was already kneeling in the grass, soaked to the bone after only having been out in the rain for a few seconds of sprinting.

* * *

Penny said a timid goodbye to Daryl, who nodded in response.

Her father whisked her to his car, saying he thought the best thing would be to tuck her into her own bed as quickly as possible. Beth had already sacrificed herself to the rain and was plenty wet. Daryl watched her escorted them, plucking a couple of shock-blankets from one of the cruisers that had been left unlocked by some negligent officer. Daryl suspected that she hadn't asked and couldn't help but grin inwardly about it.

The cops were speaking with Hershel in the kitchen. He wasn't sure why, but the sight of it made him nervous. Beth burst through the front door behind him, blonde hair stuck to her face in messy swirls. Her clothing utterly drenched. As she passed him, she gripped onto his upper-arm, pausing just long enough to give him a smile of chattering teeth and a giggle, then she scurried up the staircase—presumably to change. He watched her go, heart still high in his throat.

Shaking and dripping like a stray dog on the rug in front of their door, Daryl tried to make these few dry minutes count before he had to plunge back out into the storm.

Unexpectedly, something rushed into him with painful pressure around his ribcage. It turned out to be Shawn Greene, "Ya saved my ass," he laughed shortly, "Seriously—thank you, man," he backed off a moment later, seemingly unconcerned with the dark, damp patches that Daryl had left behind on his sweatshirt.

"If it makes ya feel any better, Penny told me that she waited 'til you weren't lookin' 'cause she figured you woulda stopped her."

"Little miss trying to run from home?" Shawn knitted his eyebrows.

"Nah, just curious about nature," Daryl tried to shrug, but he was too cold.

From the kitchen, Hershel called to Shawn who visibly paled again, then went to go see what they wanted.

"Hey," it was Maggie who sauntered up to him next, arms crossed in front of her chest. "I uh… I don't like to admit when I'm wrong. So I ain't gonna."

For a moment, he thought that was all she planned to say so he just watched her looking off to the side of him stubbornly, then gradually she added, "But, I will say that I think Beth was right about you."

"…Okay," part of him wanted to ask her what precisely Beth had said about him, but all of him was terrified that she might actually tell him.

Maggie smirked at him and turned to head into the kitchen with her father, brother and the police. After that, Daryl tried to slip away quietly before Beth returned, but Annette wouldn't allow it.

"You're a _mess_! Come on. Let me throw those clothes in the dryer for ya."

He didn't see much point in that, they were just going to get soaked again if he went back in the storm, but her grip on his wrist was firm as she dragged him into the hallway. She grabbed a woolly blanket from one of the bedrooms and handed it to him, then pointed to another room, "Just drop your clothes on the floor here and I'll be back in a minute to grab 'em," she vanished like a ghost, leaving him torn on whether or not to actually obey her.

His hands and feet were numb with cold and he was trembling. The storm might just cry itself out in the time it took the clothes to dry. Still feeling more vulnerable than he liked about it, Daryl finally did as she'd instructed and shut himself in what appeared to be an unused guestroom. Once safely behind the door he stripped his clothing off, wrapped up in the woolly blanket and did his best to hold it high and closed around him as he poked his head out the doorway.

The coast was clear, so he dropped his clothing in a pile on the ground. Shutting the door quickly, he backed up to the bed. Just as he sat down and was actually starting to relax a little, he remembered Beth's cellphone. He strode to the door again and crouched in front of it as he opened it again, intending to snatch the phone out of the pocket of his trousers before Annette could come take his things.

The second the door opened he found himself at the bare feet of Beth Greene. Her long legs were bare too. She must have climbed out of her own soaked clothing in record time and all she'd thrown on to cover herself was a long t-shirt with buttons down the front left open. Her hair was still wet and her make-up a little smudged; she looked too beautiful for words. Daryl tried to ignore that and fumbled for her phone in the folds of his rumpled clothing. He stood up, taking care to hold the blanket tight around himself as he offered her the phone. "Here. Thanks." Maybe she'd just take it and leave.

Not a chance. She closed her hand over the phone and backed him into the room with the slightest amount of pressure. Once she'd crossed the threshold, she shut the door behind them.

* * *

**Was that mean? :D Let's be real people, at some point, flood season was going to pay off with unexpected naked.**

**All About Your Heart - Mindy Gledhill**


	15. Found

Beth eyes were over-bright, looking up at him—she had been in a hurry. Once they were alone in the room she let out a slow breath of relief through pursed lips.

"I don't think…" suddenly very aware of how entirely naked he was underneath this wool covering, Daryl tried to wrestle his senses back under control. Why had he let her come into the room? "Ya shouldn't be in here, Beth." He barely pulled his teeth apart to speak, "Can't be with me."

"I don't really care 'bout the rules where you're concerned," but she was keeping her voice down, a sure sign that whatever she said, she _didn't _want anyone else to know where she was. "I wanna be in here, with you." She walked past him, and sat down on the edge of the bed folding those stems and tugging self-consciously at the front of the shirt, until she noticed his gaze and then she simply reclined ever so slightly and stopped fidgeting.

For a moment he was ridged where he stood, watching her face grow tense as footsteps in the hallway sounded and then paused. Underneath the door, the light was blocked out for a moment as a shadow came and went, presumably taking his clothing with it.

When he looked back at Beth she was holding a lungful of air high in her chest, she released it, eye wide on his, a little smile tickled her mouth and her shoulders relaxed. "Come on," she sounded more at ease than she looked, "If somebody _does_ find me, I'll be the one that gets in trouble—no one expects you to leave this room as long as you ain't dressed. I'll just say I cornered you in here to ask about where you found her and how she seemed—which is true, by the way," red filled her cheeks.

"I don't want ya to get in trouble on account of me," Daryl grumbled.

She didn't have a reply for that, but she did have a real sweet smile like honey and a way of looking at him that he wasn't prepared for.

"Ain't much to tell, neither," but it was a weak argument and he could already feel his resolve crumbling under her pale, guiltless gaze. "She just… saw a mama deer and a fawn and wanted a closer look. She kept thinkin' she could remember her way back, but then when her prey bolted—"

"Prey?" Beth interrupted him with a confused shake of her head, "She just wanted to _look_ at them."

Daryl raised and lowered one shoulder with effort, cringing and then tightening his grip as the blanket almost slipped free from his grasp. "Habit I guess, I don't think 'bout stalking an animal without it bein' for a hunt."

"Oh," Beth nodded, still staring at him, expectant.

"So uh… she got all disoriented, tried to head back to the farm. Thought she was trekin' right. The rain picked up, the creek was nearby and the water-level was risin'. Little streams cropped up all through the mud, so she climbed a tree to keep her feet dry. I saw her up there, clinging onto her branch like a lil' monkey."

Beth's smile widened at that.

"She's a good kid. Ain't dumb neither, though I might have to eat some words from when the rain first started gettin' bad."

"Sit down," Beth urged, "Or lie down—you gotta be tired." She couldn't say it without a little red coming into her cheeks, or maybe that was just left-over from running around in the storm outside.

He was still standing right in front of the door, half-thinking that if someone did try and come in he'd throw his body-weight against it. It was an irrational, partially unconscious plan. He knew that pulling something like that would only make things look worse in the long run.

Beth wasn't leaving.

In all honesty, he didn't want her to leave. Heavily, he took his place next to her, "I'll sit," he muttered. He tried to put a healthy amount of distance between them, but Beth wasn't having that, as his weight sagged the mattress a little she leaned into the curve and scooted down to be right next to him.

"I'm sorry about Maggie… she's… intense," Beth laughed nervously.

"S'okay," Daryl saw her as a blur of white-gold out of the corner of his eye. "She's just lookin' out for ya."

"I don't know what she even thinks this is," even without looking at her directly he saw her move, one slow hand up to his face, she pulled something away from his face—a blade of grass that had gotten stuck there. "What do you think this is?" she asked tentatively.

_The hell if I know._ Daryl couldn't let his jaw loose enough to say anything, which was probably best, he decided. He doubted he could make his words contain any sense; his mind was a muddled mess.

"Sorry." She seemed to shrink next to him and he realized his silence had made it worse.

He didn't understand what she wanted from him. "I don't wanna stick around where I don't belong."

"That ain't how it is," she said firmly. "No one wants you to go, not even Maggie… I want you here. I _know_ that Mr. Blake and Penny are sure grateful you're around." She gave him another shy, sideways smile.

He swallowed; heart a little higher than normal. "It just made sense… felt right for me to go get her."

It was her turn to be quiet, her face pensive with concern, she watched him, blue eyes like spikes. It was a look without judgment, prompting him to go ahead and speak.

"When I was a kid, no one came lookin' for me. Didn't even notice I was gone." He remembered fear that he'd never be found, as deep and abiding as the fear that no one would ever want to find him. He'd gone to the trees to be alone, and that was how they kept him. "…Merle was in Juvie, my dad… even if he hadn't been shacked up with someone at the time, ya couldn't count on him to even notice I was gone." He stopped talking as he took in the expression on her face, still open and caring but with a burst of sorrow.

"That's awful," she said, gaze stroking his face.

Daryl shrugged, looking away from her a moment as he tried to get his balance back, "I was alright." He'd been just fine out in the woods. That was when he started to think that maybe he belonged there, more than he'd ever belong in a warm house. "Found my way back home after a few days."

"_Days_?!" She reached out again, this time her fingers found his shoulder and with more strength than he would have expected she began to massage the tight muscle there.

"I didn't know how to navigate my way through the wild like I do now." The blanket kept slipping under his grip, he tried to tug it back up into place, but after pulling the fabric too taut it snapped back down a few inches over the shoulder she was rubbing. "…Didn't know what signs to look for, to find my way back to people. I became a hunter after that."

Her brow was knit in concern, eyes fixed on a point around his back. Her hand had stopped moving. He stiffened as he realized what it meant, what she was looking at. Anxious, he tugged the blanket up higher. Only a few people had ever seen Daryl's naked back before, usually, when he was very intoxicated; among those individuals there was a stoic tattoo artist.

From the sudden fear and disgust in her eyes, it wasn't the inked demons on his shoulder that had caught her eye. "Daryl."

A sinking feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. He folded his lips into his mouth, looking down at the ground and trying to ignore the way she stared at him like she was watching something break.

"How could…?" Her gentle hand made contact with the back of his neck.

"Stop," he spoke more harshly than he'd meant to and jerked out from under her touch. "It's…" he softened his tone, not wanting her to think he was mad at _her_. "It's just ugly, s'all."

"No," she breathed, trying to smile, but she looked too sad to make it stick. "I'm sorry. It's not fair of me to…" for a moment she was silent. It didn't look like she was taking a breath. A determined spark flared deep in her eyes. "…Please. Can I see?"

Daryl couldn't picture it in his mind. He only occasionally caught a glimpse of himself in a foggy hotel mirror as he was getting out of the shower. He knew where the worst of the scars were, could still remember particular pain when he forced himself to. But he couldn't remember precisely what it looked like, only a vague sense that the belt-stripes on his back always looked so much worse than he remembered. He loosened his grip on the blanket, letting it slid to his elbows, enough to speak for him.

The bed shifted underneath him as she got up on her knees and oriented herself around to his back. Her fingers were so light, he couldn't be sure she was even actually touching him. It could have just been his imagination making his skin tingle.

Her cool, damp hair tickled him. He felt breath and then her lips on his spine, right over one of the worst of the scars. The last of the numb and cold that had clung to him rushed away, replaced with a warmth that grew with every passing second; she didn't pull away, instead pushing more of her weight into him as she turned her head and slid her arms across his to lock together in front of his chest. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

Slowly, he rested his chin on the front of her clasped hands, bit by bit his body started to relax. It didn't matter that the sky was raging outside or that her family still surrounded them. For a split second he was able to forget all of that, and appreciate fully the glorious sensation of her, wrapped around him.

Then, there was a knock on the door. "Daryl?" it was Hershel's voice that came with the shadow under the door.

So quick that she might have left a blurry out-line in the air, Beth bounced off the bed and rolled underneath it. Her foot disappeared and with a voice, somewhat higher than normal Daryl managed to say, "Yeah?"

"Ya decent, son?"

"Near 'nough," he really did not want Hershel to come in this room. His heart was racing, murdering his ribs with every heavy beat. He couldn't think of a single way to stop him, couldn't think of anything but the sweet way that Beth's lips felt against his skin and how badly he wanted to taste them.

The door opened and Hershel shuffled in, with a sandwich on a plate out in front of him.

Daryl stood up from the bed, to take the sandwich from Hershel and also, to let the bed rise up and give Beth a little more space to breathe. If he was having trouble breathing, he could only imagine how she was feeling, crammed under there.

"You did a great service to this farm tonight, Daryl. Not to mention what you did for that little girl, personally." Hershel probably wouldn't be using such a kind tone if he'd known.

Trying not to give away his guilt, Daryl just shrugged. "Thanks," he tipped the plate, indicating the sandwich. He hadn't realized until just this moment that he was famished; chunks of turkey poked out from between the two overloaded slices. "I couldn't just leave her all alone out there," he added when Hershel didn't immediately leave.

"No," said Hershel slowly, managing to stretch the single syllable into a tense moment for the new farmhand. "No. I don't think ya could've."

Daryl only shrugged again, shying away from Hershel's sharp blue regard.

"The police asked me to give you what I expect are their very begrudging thanks."

"They're begrudgingly welcome, I 'spose," Daryl spoke through a mouthful of turkey.

"Hum," Hershel let out a single puff of laughter from his throat, "They've got a lot of nerve, but then again, I imagine nerve is a boon in that profession. I saw them off my property just now. They warned me that I'll probably get a call from local papers tomorrow, asking about the incident. Too many civilians knew about it—the other children and their parents. They were wrong in that I actually got the phone-call before you found her."

"Papers?" He stuffed the last of the sandwich into his mouth.

"Human interest," he said, with a pensive nod, "We still have about ten people in town who read the local articles sometimes. I'm one of them."

Daryl licked his fingers, thinking about that for a moment, "didn't get much of a read on him… But I kinda suspect that Penny's dad ain't gonna feel too amiable 'bout that."

"He's a hard man to read," Hershel conceded. "He just moved into town at the beginning of the school year; teaches Beth's History class at the High School. I learned tonight that he changed professions to indulge in a mild obsession with History. Military History in particular, I gathered. He did it partially as a way to try and cope with losing his wife some time ago. Penny's all he's got left." Hershel paused a moment, taking the empty plate from Daryl's hand as he sighed heavily, frowning. "You don't have any children, do you Daryl?"

"Nah," said Daryl.

"In time, I'm sure you will, and then you can better appreciate what I'm about to say; there is no way to adequately express how it crushes a father to so much as think of his children in danger. That any harm may ever come to them is unthinkable. Tonight, you spared Mr. Blake some of that madness by finding her quickly and getting her back to him."

Every word was like a blow to his gut. He couldn't feel good about what he'd done tonight. It didn't say anything about him. Anyone else would have done it, but he _knew_ how best to find her. Him and Otis; he just got lucky that he came across her trail. Here, Hershel was talking about how he worried about his children, while his youngest daughter was hiding under the bed. Daryl didn't feel like he deserved any thanks in that moment; he felt like trash.

"As a farmer, I can take comfort in knowing that you saved us from further embarrassment, and took responsibility for any negligence on our part, though it wasn't yours to own…" he looked Daryl right in the eye and might as well have shot him, "…but to a father, you were nothing less than a Godsend."

He couldn't say anything that wouldn't turn into a confession, so with his lips folded tight over his teeth he just gave him a single, jerky nod, unable to keep his eyes on the farmer.

"Take a load off," Hershel put a hand on the doorknob and was almost out of the room, "I'm sure you're exhausted."

He wasn't actually, if anything, he felt a little keyed up, but he said, "Yeah, alright," in a mumble as Hershel left the room.

Turning around, he found Beth crawling out from under the bed, a line of dust clung to the front of her. She brushed herself off, then met his eyes. There wasn't a trace of shame in her. She was just as innocent as she'd always been. "Well," she said in a more cautious undertone than she'd been using before her father's appearance, "He said it better than I could've."

Daryl could only shake his head.

She walked up to him, taking a hold of either side of the blanket like it was a lapel. "Hey. Everythin' he said about you is the truth, and more besides. On behalf of girls who get lost everywhere, thank you." She was going to kiss him again. He could see it in her eyes. Maybe it would just be on the cheek, but he wasn't sure he could take that. "You're every bit a hero." He wanted her too much.

"…should probably get back."

She only hesitated a second, "Yeah," she let go of him and stepped away, hiding her hands behind her back, "You're right, they'll be wonderin' where I am." There was the faintest blush in her cheeks, but aside from that, she gave no hint at feeling dismissed.

"I'll check," he pushed past her to the door, poking his head outside first to make sure the hallway was empty, "Clear," he cocked his head out the door and stepped back so she could leave.

Without another word she slipped away. He shut her out as soon as she crossed the threshold and stood with his back against the door for a long time.

Hershel trusted him and Daryl was surprised to recognize that this actually meant a lot. He didn't want to betray that faith. At the same time, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Merle (except that it was making more sense than Merle usually did) kept reminding him that while she might always be a child in her father's eyes, Beth was a grown woman. She could and would make her own choices. Her father couldn't make them for her, anymore than Daryl could.

He needed to decide what _his_ choice would be.

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**Thanks to everyone who's following, favorite-ing and reviewing:) I will have the next chapter up muy prontisimo. In the mean time, stay awesome!**

**I'm On Fire - Bruce Springsteen**


	16. Homeless

**Hey to all my followers, new and old. I wanted to thank everyone who's been recommending this fic to other Bethylers. I'm so happy you like it:) You're kind words and encouragement are so, so appreciated, I really can't say thanks enough! I thought maybe the best thing I could do, would just be to write some more. I'm updating a little sooner than I expected, which I think is a good thing, because, you might have heard about this SDCC thing happening? It is sure to make everybody lose their damn minds for a while, including me. So, before all hell breaks loose, I'm going to go ahead and post.**

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_Are you coming?_ Beth got the text the instant that she parked her car. It was a warm, sunny day. She couldn't see anyone around, just the farm itself in golden light.

She grimaced at the message from Minnie, _Can't make it, sorry._ It wasn't, strictly speaking, true. She could run to her room, throw her backpack on the bed, dash back to her car and leave right now to go mess around with her friends. Part of her even wanted to, a little. She hadn't seen much of them for the past few weeks and she could tell they were starting to feel neglected.

Then again, at least she still talked to them… Ever since the night of the big storm, Daryl had been avoiding her. For a couple of days, she tried to convince herself that she was imagining it, but that only got her so far. She caught glimpses of him as he was working and any time she tried to get near, something would call him away. Twice, he'd seemed to literally run for it without so much as glancing at her.

She couldn't tell whether this was him rejecting her, or if he just felt embarrassed or uncomfortable about what had happened the night he found Penny. If she was being completely honest with herself, she had to admit that there was a moment while she was hiding under the bed in the guest room when she started to question her sanity. Maybe _he_ was questioning her sanity.

She wasn't the type who got off on the idea of sneaking around. It was inconvenient and she _did_ feel bad about it, but she thought it was worth it. Maybe he didn't.

The main reasons she didn't want to go hang out with her friends today was because most of the household was away. Otis, Patricia, her mother and Shawn (by force) had been recruited to help with a charity drive in town. This left only her father around, and he would most likely be working on the taxes for the year. It was the perfect opportunity for her to seek Daryl out and try to talk to him.

Maybe he would tell her that she'd just been imagining things—that he didn't feel that way about her and that she ought to run along and play with her friends. She hoped it was something else, but she was already bracing herself for a crushing outcome like that. All this uncertainty was taking its toll. She'd been distracted all week, hurtling back and forth between crafting plans to corner him again and worrying that he was staying away from her, only in lieu of telling her outright to leave him alone.

It was Thursday, classes had let out early to kick-off a three day weekend. She gathered her things and got out of the car just as a dust-cloud at the end of the drive billowed out from around the corner. She heard the engine then, and turned to see a monstrous black SUV.

The car parked just behind her and out stepped Special Agent Rick Grimes; suit and tie sharp and crisp. He was probably the last person she ever expected to see again, but from the look on his face, finding her here wasn't remotely surprising.

"Special Agent, what're you doing here?"

"Afternoon," he said slowly, checking his watch, perhaps to make sure it really was afternoon. "I'm here looking for Daryl Dixon?" he pulled something from out of the inside of his jacket.

It was a thin newspaper, and Beth didn't have to look at it closely to recognize the print. It was this last Monday's journal for the local town. It had featured an article about Penny, mentioning Daryl by name. It even had a snapshot from Shawn's phone. She had it pinned up in her room.

"I've been looking for him," Agent Grimes said in a would-be casual voice, "Caught a lucky break with that story about the little girl sneaking away from your farm. Glad she was found safely. Got some questions for Dixon regarding his brother, Merle."

Her heart got caught in her throat, "Is Merle alright?"

The side of Agent Grimes' mouth twitched and he took a moment, before he said with a little more firmness, "I'm here to ask Daryl some questions concerning the _whereabouts_ of his brother, Merle Dixon." He clarified.

Beth shook her head, "He doesn't know. He's been worried about him."

"All the same…" Agent Grimes didn't look at all satisfied by this. He took a moment to scan the area and tucked the paper back into his jacket, "Is Hershel Greene at home? Your father?"

"I don't know," Beth confessed, "I'll… go look for Daryl. Uh—Special Agent, if you wouldn't mind doing me a personal favor," she backtracked the couple of paces that she'd already been rushing away from him and in a pleading voice said, "My parents don't know about _that_ night—they don't know that Daryl and I met before he came to work here. I think it's better if they don't. Won't do any harm, just… don't mention it, please?"

She didn't know him well enough to suss out what he was thinking. So far, her impression of Agent Grimes was that he was a man who went far out of his way to keep his face a mask and his words minimal, so she couldn't read much in his stiff expression, but after a few seconds he nodded, "Until it becomes relevant… off the table."

That was probably the best that she'd get out of him. As she dropped her bags and jogged away to look for Daryl, and Agent Grimes continued his way up to the house, she took comfort in the thought that she couldn't imagine _what_ would be relevant about it.

She found Dave and Tony, two of the other farmhands, working alone by the back fence, "You guys seen Daryl?" she asked, out-of-breath from running.

Dave took a moment before answer, frowning at her and letting his eyes flicker around the area, probably a little thrown that she was there talking to them without a chaperone.

"Yeah—cat took off that way," Dave wiped the sweat off his forehead and then pointed to the nearby tree-line, "I think he saw a rabbit or something."

"Wanted to catch himself some dinner," Tony added.

"Thanks." Beth was already running in the direction they pointed, but when she got to the woods, she had to pause a moment. She was no tracker. There was no risk of her getting lost—she'd grown up here and knew these woods intimately. "Daryl?" she called and pressed on further. When she got no reply she went deeper.

What kinds of signs could he possibly look for as a hunter? She glanced at the ground here and there, but didn't trust her own impressions right away. What looked like a fresh shoeprint could be from days ago, as far as she knew. There hadn't been much wind and no rain since the massive storm. Finally, she found a clear track that looked about like it was Daryl's size. Even though the prints that followed were fainter she felt certain that they came from him. She was able to follow them for a full two hundred yards before she finally came upon something concrete—but it wasn't what she expected.

Strung between two trees was a collection of critter pelts. A ways ahead she could see a campfire.

"Beth?"

She found Daryl standing off to the side, looking about like a hunted animal with his shoulders rounded and his gaze shifting. In his element again, he seemed to fill the space, the look in his eyes was a little wild, though it darkened as he overcome his surprise.

"I tracked you!" her mouth spread into the widest smile she'd worn all week, "I _actually_ tracked you!" she couldn't help but giggle, feeling victorious. The laughter died in her throat when she noticed his hostile expression and the way his eyes were shifting off to the side. She followed the direction of his gaze and then noticed a small tent, tucked back a ways in the shade of a particularly large tree. Further beyond that was Merle's motorcycle.

For an uncomfortable moment neither of them dared to speak, while Beth worked out what she was seeing. "Are you staying here?" She looked between him, the pelts, tent and fire-pit. "Otis said you had a place in town? Are you _living_ here?"

He gave a kind of rugged shrug as he stalked around her, "What're doin' out here, Greene?"

Her brow twitched at his aggressive air. She hadn't heard him sound this defensive since Nick's. "Lookin' for you—Daryl, tell me straight, do ya have a place to stay or not?"

"Shouldn't make no difference to you or anyone," he grumbled.

"But you're _homeless_!" she said, stricken.

He stared at her a moment, "Pfft," he rolled his eyes and turned away.

"You don't gotta live like this Daryl—"

"I live however I want—I'ma ask ya again, what do ya think you're doin' out here?" he advanced up tight on her. If she didn't know better than to be afraid of him, she might have backed up, but he was just posturing, still, it unnerved her more than she wanted to admit.

"Lookin' for you!" she said again, not backing down from his stare. "Agent Grimes is at the house—he came to ask you 'bout Merle."

Daryl froze at that, eyes getting narrow as he snarled, "How the hell did he know I was here?"

"That story about Penny—he says he's been trying to track you down."

Before she was done speaking he turned on his heel and started to march back to the farm. She scurried after him, in his wake. He was moving so quickly that it took a while for her to navigate the terrain and reach him, just before they hit the edge of the tree-line. "If he finds Merle, that's good?"

"Don't know," said Daryl harshly.

"Listen—Daryl, we gotta talk about this."

"We don't got nothin' to talk about," he snapped.

She felt her own temper flare at that point, but bit her tongue as they exited the woods. Dave and Tony stopped working to watch them rush out of the forest. "Why are you actin' like this?" she hissed as soon as they were out of earshot. "I care about you—I don't want you thinking you gotta sleep in a tent in the woods, you're welcome to stay in—"

"Yeah, y'all been very _welcoming_," he muttered.

She actually stopped walking at that point, only for a second.

He looked back over his shoulder, pausing like he expected that maybe she'd stumbled. When she was still standing upright and fine, he turned away.

"Is it Maggie? 'Cause she don't care anymore. Before she left on Sunday we talked and she said she likes—"

"It ain't Maggie, it's all y'all. _You_ especially," he whirled back around, jabbing a hand at her chest. "I know what I am, the rest of ya seem to know it too. Just thought I'd do your dad a favor a keep my distance, 'cause he sure as hell don't want the likes of me anywhere near ya—that's for damn sure."

Was that it? Was that why he wouldn't look at her, wouldn't talk to her? When he'd first arrived, he'd been so warm, especially in comparison to this. She could see the fear in his eyes now. He thought he'd messed up, overstepped his bounds. He was trying to take a step back. Unable to think of anything to say, she only shook her head, she couldn't let him do this.

"If he knew what I was thinkin' I'd be _gone_," Daryl grit his teeth.

For a moment, neither of them drew breath. It was almost like a confession. He'd meant it to rattle her, but instead, she managed to loose her tongue and ask in a trembling voice, "What're you thinking?"

Shaking his head, Daryl rubbed at his neck, "_Shit_, girl, everyone else can see there's something wrong here, it's only you who don't seem to get it!" He shouted.

"That's not fair." She stumbled over what she might be able to say to counter him. She hadn't been prepared for this. The corners of her eyes prickled but with a shallow she was able to keep from cracking.

"Nah, it ain't." He yelled, but with a few shallow breaths her started to soften his tone, "It ain't on ya, neither. It's all me—I shouldn't've come here." They'd reached the barn, but it seemed like she'd caught him. He was going to try and say his peace before he went up to the house to see Agent Grimes.

She started walking around the barn and he followed, they'd switched who was leading so seamlessly that she wasn't even sure he'd noticed it. He was pacing in front of her, agitated and trying not to look at her straight on. "It was bad enough, already—I never shoulda... I must've. I gotta've done somethin' wrong. I'm as bad as any of 'em. Dirt like me should stay far away."

"But—that's not true, Daryl," she had to show him he was wrong. She didn't think any of that stuff about him, and hated that he might actually believe it. "That's _not_ you, I know that!"

"Oh—ya think _you _know me?" He snapped at her, taking a jolting step closer, but she didn't stumble or step back.

"Yeah, that's right!" she nodded, staring him down, "I do."

Wrestling with his tongue a moment, he glowered down at her, choosing his next words carefully, his fists opened and closed as he jerked further away from her. Before he could find a voice, she decided she didn't want to hear it, he'd only put himself down again, only continue talking himself out of what she was suddenly sure they both wanted. As he was about to yell, she grabbed onto the front of his shirt and pulled herself close to him.

She'd meant to plant a kiss on him right in that instance, but stopped short of his mouth, coming to gently rest her forehead against his, feeling his breath against her mouth, warm and hungry. She'd closed her eyes automatically, but as she hesitated she opened them, catching a close-up of his own gaze, black bleeding into blue. A shiver of anticipation took a hold of her. It had been a while since she'd done this, she was already shaking; worried he'd only be angrier with her. It did work to silence him, like times past, her touch rendered him very still and quiet, his restless agitation ceased in an instant. But he wasn't frozen, slowly his hands rested at the small of her back, holding her up, each finger searing over her flesh as it found its place. His hands were usually so rough, but they eased her up against him, while she found her courage hiding somewhere between the thumps of his heartbeat, picking up pace to match her own.

If he ever considered trying to stop her from doing this, it didn't hold. She'd won. He wasn't going to stop her, and she'd held herself back long enough. Her mouth met his, unsure and trembling at first. She slid her hands up from his chest to the nap of his neck, encouraging him. The tension holding him upright began to ease, until all at once he seemed to wrap around her, arms tightening to pull her close while his lips slowly stroked hers. She grew bolder, pressing more firmly against him; twisting her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck.

He could shut her out and snap and growl at her like a stray dog. He could pretend like she was just obnoxious. When he kissed her, she knew that all his abrasive words and chilly silences were a lie. This was what they were. She hadn't imagined anything; it was all real.

His tongue ran across her lips, and then he deepened the kiss. A rush of feeling threw her and she pulled back with a slight intake of breath, heady from his touch. He stopped, looking at her with concern in his suddenly, overwhelmed eyes; more black than blue.

"Sorry," she breathed and leaned in to grin against his mouth.

"S'alright," he murmured back into hers.

"Daryl, I know it ain't a good time, but I…" She'd been about to say that she didn't want to stop. That she'd wanted him to kiss her like that since the night they met, and they when he was done dealing with the lawman he should come find her. But, she didn't get to say any of that.

A voice to the side of them cleared its throat and she stopped herself short, turning her head to see who'd interrupted them. It all happened so fast, she didn't even have time to panic that it might be her father.

It was Rick Grimes. He stood around the side of the barn, hands on his hips, looking at them with a tight-lipped, though mildly astonished expression. He'd definitely seen enough.

"Special Agent," Beth drew a shallow breath, Daryl had pulled away from her so quickly, that she stumbled, not realizing until then that he'd been carrying most of her weight while they were kissing.

Clearly mortified, Daryl took a few steps away from them with his back turned, he gripped a hold of his scalp with splayed fingers, cussing under his breath.

"Daryl Dixon,"

"Yeah, hoss, that's me," muttered Daryl, still not turning all the way around. From where Beth stood she could see that his face was stark-white.

"I'm here to speak to you, concerning the unknown whereabouts of your brother, Merle Dixon."

With the back of her hand still anxiously pressed against her mouth, and her face burning, Beth watched Daryl slowly piece himself back together. He shook off, literally and turned to face Agent Grimes, "Don't know nothin'," he grumbled.

"…How about you come with me?" Agent Grimes suggested firmly, not deterred or surprised at all by Daryl's open hostility. "I'll buy you a beer and ask you a couple of questions."

"A beer?" Daryl regarded the lawman with marked suspicion.

"It's more like a couple _dozen_ questions," Agent Grimes corrected himself, glancing at Beth, who managed to return the look with a nervous smile.

Daryl was gnawing on his lower lip, looking at the dirt, but he conceded, marching forward to follow Agent Grimes to his car.

The lawman cocked his head in a goodbye to Beth as he turned away, but Daryl wouldn't so much as look at her. She watched them go and stared into the empty air where they'd been for a lot longer than she meant to. They were finally getting somewhere, though it seemed timing wasn't on their side. She tried not to let it worry her that they'd been interrupted, tried to remind herself that being an aggressively anti-social basketcase, Daryl probably didn't understand how awful it made her feel that he just walked away like that after they'd just kissed for the first time. She knew it was going to be tough with him.

She just needed to be better prepared for these things.

She needed to let him have a little time to think.

She needed time to think.

She needed to talk to Maggie.

* * *

That he had the ability at all to speak after what Beth had just done to him came as something of a shock to Daryl. He wasn't much for words, but he'd been known to lose the ability to speak entirely under pressing circumstances.

This was pressing.

The ensuing car-ride was tense and wordless. Daryl listened to the rolling wheels against the road, trying to keep his eyes wide open and on the road. Every time he dared to close them he felt her there again, pressing.

Rick Grimes wasn't an easy man to figure out. Daryl tried to get inside his mindset from his vantage point in the shotgun seat of his conspicuous and obviously government associated SUV. Rick talked and walked and watched him out of the corner of his eye like a cop, but there was an easiness to him that made Daryl somewhat inclined to actually listen to the man. They didn't speak much on the way to the bar. Daryl was paranoid every second that the lawman was going to make some remark about Beth, or allude to what he'd seen them doing when he walked around the barn, but the car ride was merely awkward and silent.

The bar was still relatively empty when they arrived. It would be a few more hours before the regular crowd got off work. They sat down, side-by-side at the counter, and emptied the necks of their bottles before Agent Grimes turned to business.

"You might think it's odd that we'd run into each other again," he commented, gesturing to Daryl's face. "I see that your eye's all healed up."

Daryl took a drink in lieu of responding.

"They truth is, a lot of the people I talk to fall into two categories. Either they're totally outside of the case and so I never see them again, beyond taking a statement, or they're guilty of something, in which case I figure out what it is, charge 'em, and then they're just… gone. You know what _doesn't_ happen? Running into a totally innocent third-party twice."

In spite of himself, Daryl smirked, "Ya sayin' Beth's a criminal mastermind?"

Agent Grimes fought a smile for about three seconds before he gave in, "Nah, Mr. Dixon, that's not what I'm sayin'." He sobered up again, just as quickly.

"Thing is, lawman," Daryl chose his words carefully, not wanting to give himself away in the least, nor did he want to appear too smart, "Runnin' into me twice in as many weeks ain't a whole heap of fun for either of us, but your personal statistics don't qualify as evidence, do they? We here to talk 'bout my brother, or what?"

With a sigh, Rick straightened up and tugged at his tie. He removed his suit-jacket and started rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down, as if anticipating that this was going to take a while. "I _do_ want to talk about your brother." He nodded, looking straight ahead at the bar as he explained the evidence he _did_ have against Merle. "We know he was involved with a couple of men we've got in custody. Nick Waters and Jeremiah Waters—know 'em?" It wasn't really a question, so Daryl didn't bother to answer it. "That was Nick's residence where I first saw you. Jeremiah and his cousin Evan were also there."

"Yeah, we're friends," Daryl took another drink. If Grimes had anything on him besides association, they wouldn't be having this conversation _here_. Still, it was hard to relax. Especially knowing that Jeremiah and Nick had both been caught. They knew Daryl. They knew he'd been involved. Not a big enough cog to worry about, but all the same. It put things in a chilly light.

"Evan's dead."

Daryl took another drink.

"…You don't seem too broken up about two of your friends bein' arrested and one of them turning up dead, Mr. Dixon?"

"Not _good_ friends," Daryl grumbled.

"Your brother was seen fleeing a crime scene. Evan's body was nearby."

Seizing the opportunity to look like he didn't have a clue what had happened Daryl said quickly, "Merle didn't kill Evan," and shook his head adamantly. "He's not like that."

Rick's face was blank. Daryl couldn't tell whether he was buying it or not, but he didn't try to call Daryl's bluff, which seemed like a good sign. "Your brother isn't wanted for murder."

"Then what's he wanted for?"

"Can't disclose details at this point," said Agent Grimes.

Daryl nodded, understanding that the lawman was half-hoping he would slip up and reveal the details that _he_ knew, which was bound to be a lot more than the FBI. "But it ain't murder?"

"Nope."

"Good. That'd be a waste of time. My brother's a degenerate, but he ain't a murderer."

"You got any other family?" Agent Grimes furrowed his brow.

He didn't like this pensive, probing look, but he was getting somewhat more used to people taking an interest in him. Starting with Beth and then Hershel, he was getting better at handling it like a man. "None to speak of. Dad died in a hunting accident last year," he answered, clipped, short but not defensive. He was learning. "It's just been me and Merle for a while now."

"But you aren't with him now."

"Nope," Daryl agreed. "That night, at Nick's place… the girl offered me and Merle jobs on the Greene farm. Merle said he'd follow in a few days. Never showed up. I figured somethin' happened, but it's kinda difficult gettin' a hold of my brother. The man's been known to fall off the face of the earth from time to time."

"So, you came straight here, after that night?" Grimes moved so smoothly into trying to wrangle an alibi from Daryl for the night in question that he almost missed it, but he already had a story prepared. It was a good one, because it was partially true.

"Nah, I packed up my things and went down to a little garage called Shambles. I sold my bike, spent a couple of days on my own, hunting in the woods 'round about those parts."

"Sold your bike?" Grimes repeated.

"Hard times," Daryl shrugged. "Ain't the first."

"But you had a job lined up on the farm?" his brow twisted into that same searching look.

It didn't take any acting ability on Daryl's part to pull this next bit off. He stared at the surface of the counter a moment then, with entirely genuine unease he muttered, "I wasn't so sure it was a good idea for me to come to the farm. Had to take some time to think it over."

"Why didn't you think it was a good idea?"

_'Cause a teenager just jumped me, are ya blind?!_ "The girl," he didn't mean to say it out-loud, but it poured out. "I shouldn't be 'round that girl." He rubbed at his eyes.

"Beth Greene? She _is_ a high school student," Grimes blinked at him and shrugged, "But age of consent is sixteen in Georgia, Mr. Dixon. If you're lookin' for someone to give ya a hard time… you can find 'em, elsewhere." He took a swig of his drink, swallowing in a gulp and then added, "'Sides, I know how to recognize a first kiss when I see one."

* * *

**THEY KISSED! I'm sorry it took forty years, but in a #sorrynotsorry kinda way. I'm trynabe realistic here. (Ish). I hope it was satisfying and met expectations. I tend to handle expectations with a lot of nervous crying, so even if it was tots lame, please lie to me and say it was great! **

**You guys are the wind beneath my wings, next update will be very soon, promise!**

**I Know You Care - Ellie Goulding**


	17. Roomates

**Still reeling from comic con gloriosity!? I am! I'm making up words I'm so stoked about it. Exciting weekend, homies! I wanted to say a big fat thanks to everyone who has put me or this story on a favorite's list, who is following and to those of you who are recommending it to your Bethyl-friends. It is so appreciated. I can't even.**

**Have a chapter!**

* * *

"I thought I was pacing myself," Rick remarked, looking at the empty beer bottles between them, "but now I'm starting to believe that you genuinely don't have any idea where your brother is, and that might just be the first sign of inebriation."

"Well, think how I feel?" Daryl rubbed at his eyes, "'Cause I_ don't_ know, and I just gave you everythin'." Well, everything about where Merle usually holed up, and what he definitely wouldn't do. Not that it would do Agent Grimes (who'd told Daryl to just call him Rick about an hour earlier) any good. Daryl had already failed to find Merle. He was careful to say nothing about the Waters, or the job itself or anything that might indicate their involvement. "I must be drunk. Did ya do that on purpose? I didn't think the FBI got people drunk in order to shake information outta 'em."

Rick grinned, "Might makes things easier if we went about it that way."

"It don't even matter. All that stuff is true. He _mostly_ sticks to Georgia but he's been known to leave the state. It's usually my signal that I'm not supposed to follow him, for whatever reason… maybe a woman," he scoffed.

"That so?" Rick pushed his half-depleted bottle away, distancing himself from further temptation.

"Yeah. But it _don't_ matter," he said again, "'Cause when he's in deep—like FBI-lookin'-for-him _deep_, for instance," he shot Rick a pointed glare. "Don't matter whether he even did anythin' wrong. He could be innocent. He just hates lawmen. If he got wind that one was lookin' for him, for any reason, he's _gone. _He don't trust his friends 'nough to try and lie low with 'em. He'll clean himself up, so his dealers lose track of him. I can't track him. There's nothing to track. You won't find him neither—I didn't."

Rick surveyed him with hard eyes. Mouth twisted a little as he seemed to chew on his lip from the inside.

"_That's_ the truth," Daryl declared, then he emptied what he decided would be his final drink for the day. "I tried calling him—hurry him along to meet up with me." He could see from the skeptical look in Rick's eye that whatever he said, the man was still sharp as ever. It made Daryl feel a little nervous, but he wasn't cracking. He wasn't even contradicting his earlier claims… just expanding. There wasn't much else to do, since Rick kept buying him drinks. "Got no response. So I checked some other lines. Nothing. He's just gone."

"I thought you were hunting?" Rick slurred, remembering his earlier story.

Daryl shrugged, "Hunting brothers and animals. I gotta eat."

"Is anyone better at finding your brother than you?"

"Not so far."

Wearing a strange, pensive expression that Daryl didn't understand, Rick regarded him silently for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by an alert from his pocket. "'Scuse me," Rick muttered, pulling his cell-phone out. Even under the soggy weight of a couple of beers, Daryl could still make a decent deduction. Rick's face lit up when he looked at the message, but darkened steadily in the seconds that followed. That kind of obvious pride and joy, followed by concern meant a kid. "Sorry, it's my boy," Rick explained.

Daryl nodded.

Instead of texting him back, he dialed. "Carl, what does your mom say?"

Almost, Daryl could have laughed. There was something so perfectly typical in Rick's tone, like something he'd seen on TV, where happy families had laugh-tracks to let you know when they were being funny. But the next words Rick said changed things.

"…Well, if you made a commitment to babysit your sister, then I think Shane's right." But he didn't sound like he thought that at all, his jaw got tight, a vein in his neck stood out as he rubbed at his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, like it physically hurt him to say the words. "I know. Me too. It'll have to be another time. I'll talk to your mom tomorrow and get it figured out." He spoke tonelessly.

A lull in the bar radio enabled Daryl to hear the faintest sound of newly deepening voice grousing on the other end.

"Okay."

After hanging up, there was still some ruddiness in Rick's face. "Sorry about that," he sighed heavily.

Usually not one to pry, Daryl stared a moment at the counter, wrestling with himself internally. Maybe it was the fault of these new people around him, asking him questions, wanting to know him. He wasn't sure he was ready to pass it along, but the man clearly wasn't doing so hot. A couple of weeks ago, he would have kept his thoughts to himself, but they were rubbing off on him. _She_ was rubbing off on him. "…Not Shane Walsh? That cop?"

At first Rick only sat like he was carved from stone at the bar. Jaw wired shut, eyes exhausted on the air in front of him. Slowly, he nodded.

"Fuck." Daryl reached past Rick to pick up the beer that he'd discarded and placed it right in front of his face.

Rick made eye-contact with the amber neck of the bottle. Gradually he picked it up and drained it. "He was my partner, back when I was Sheriff's Deputy."

"_Fuck_."

"It ain't their fault though," said Rick, shaking his head, mouth a little twisted with disgust. Daryl couldn't tell whether he was being sarcastic or not, though he suspected that Rick might not know himself. "We'd been having it rough for a while. Then I got shot, ended up in the hospital with my lights out for _seven_ weeks."

Suddenly feeling totally sober again, Daryl watched as Rick slowly let the story drip from his lips. The pain was evident, but what was more, and he clearly didn't want to say it, but was forcing himself to. A little alcohol probably helped.

"Everyone says she was strong. Stronger than others, I gather, because over the weeks, they whispered in her ear… _He might not wake up, you know. You gotta be prepared for that._" Rick fought a snarl off his lips. "I guess they were trying to help." He shook his head. "I don't think she paid much heed to them, until it was Shane who said something. He was my _best_ friend. She knew he wanted me to wake up just as bad as anyone, so when _he_ said to her, _Lori, he's gone. You can't keep torturing yourself. You gotta help Carl. Carl lost his dad. He's gone_."

Daryl chewed on his lip, looking at Rick sideways, "Sucks."

Rick shook his head, a light, humorless laugh breaking through the tension. "I woke up to a whole different world."

* * *

Once she made it past the front entrance, no one was around to ask Beth what she was doing there—or to give her instructions on where to find Maggie. She'd seen her gold Saturn in the parking lot, so she knew that she hadn't gone home yet. Beth wandered at a brisk pace through the hallways of the firm, peering into each office until she found her sister.

"Maggie—he kissed me," she was all out of order, she was supposed to let Maggie see her first, then she could start to explain why she had driven to Atlanta. Her mind was all in a jumble and her body still flushed and shaken.

Maggie whirled around, dropping a stack of papers that she'd been trying to sort through and file away at the same time. "Beth?!" her eyes widened when they fell on her sister, "What the hell, Beth? What're you doing here?" She made her way around the desk to meet her in the doorway of the office.

"He kissed me," she said again, "I mean—actually _I_ kissed him. I sorta pounced on him—but he didn't push me away and he kissed me back. Really well."

Maggie stared at her with her jaw a little slack, her eyes like saucers as they flickered over Beth's shoulder.

"Unless there's some instances of sexual harassment in a case I don't know about, I'm not really sure you belong here," said a voice over Beth's shoulder.

Spinning so fast that she nearly caught the woman's elbow, Beth found a pretty woman with curly blonde hair pulled back in an elegant twist at the base of her neck. She stood with her arms crossed, looking at the two sisters with an expression that was stranded between irritation and amusement.

"Andrea, this is my sister—"

"Beth?" Andrea guessed. Clearly Maggie had mentioned her at work before.

"Yeah," Maggie went red.

"Well—seems like she needs your advice. Why not make her your plus one tonight?" Andrea suggested with a genial smile, her eyes scanned Beth from her dirty cowboy boots up to her messy ponytail.

"Why don't you have a plus one?" Beth frowned at Maggie. Her older sister hadn't mentioned that she and her boyfriend broke up.

Turning a little red, Maggie just nodded, "Sure—why not?"

"Great."

"Need somethin' else?" Maggie was still looking nervously at Andrea.

"Just to get into my office," said Andrea in a hushed voice.

"Oh! Sorry," Beth scrambled out of the doorway, and Maggie followed suit with her head down.

"Uh—I made a huge mess," Maggie motioned to the papers all over the floor.

Andrea gestured flippantly towards the cabinet, "Worry about it in the morning, everyone else has already gone home to change—oh, don't forget to pick up those documents from the CDC before five o'clock."

"_Damn,_" said Maggie under her breath, a sure sign that her next words were a lie, "I remembered, don't worry."

"Did you and Zach…?" Beth started to ask about Maggie's boyfriend as they were leaving, but her expression said it all.

Maggie shrugged, "I dunno. If we're not through yet, we will be."

"I'm sorry, Maggie," Beth reached out and took her sisters hand, squeezing it a moment until Maggie had to take it back in order to get her car keys out of her pocket.

"It's alright," Maggie paused a moment in front of the door of her car, the wind picked up her short brown hair and pushed it into her eyes a moment, but she whipped it out of her face with a smile, "Honestly, I was just thinkin' how nice it could be… being single. I haven't been properly single in a while."

Even if she was telling the truth, it still had to suck. Beth gave her a tight hug before she made her way around to the passenger side.

Once Maggie sat down in the driver's seat, she'd managed to bury any sadness in her features and looked at Beth expectantly, "But who cares about that anyway. Daryl kissed you," she said flatly.

"_We _kissed," Beth barely managed to strap herself in before Maggie was pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road. "It was—" she stuttered over a few insufficient terms. How was she supposed to describe how she felt about it? She'd felt wanted before, she'd even experienced something like passion, but with Daryl, everything was different. The way he kissed her was a whole new language. Before now, the physical stuff was just fun, just something you did. With him, she'd actually felt truly _close_ to him, on every level, and like he wanted her there, wrapped in tight in his chest. Thinking about it, she felt a yearning that she didn't really understand, but she was trying to.

Then of course, he'd just left.

…Left her all hot and bothered and confused.

"Have you ever wanted someone who tried to push you away?"

"I thought you said he didn't push you away?"

"I don't mean _physically_."

Maggie started to shake her head then stopped, frowning a moment out the windshield. She sighed as she flicked her blinker on, "I guess I have," she said slowly, "But—I gotta be honest Beth, I don't think Daryl's got the same hang-ups as anyone I've dated."

"He thinks it's wrong. He said as much," Beth crossed her arms over the dash and laid her head down. "I know what he means, but I just wish he would forget about all that."

"You know what he means, do ya? Oh, good." Maggie rolled her eyes and suppressed a laugh. Beth could imagine that it might be exasperating for her older sister to finally hear her admit that her relationship with Daryl might raise eyebrows.

"'Cause I'm so much younger—and it's all happening real fast, and 'cause of the rules and also he's technically homeless and a criminal." Beth groaned into her arms, "But I don't care!" she sat up straight again, laughing without feeling like it was the least bit funny. "I don't care," she said more softly. "All that stuff is true, but it's not really. It's there, but there's so much more."

Slowly, an affectionate smirk overtook Maggie's face. Beth could see that her sister was tempted to let her eyes leave the road and turn to face Beth as she asked "…like what?"

Beth took in a deep lungful of air and let it out in a thoughtful sigh. "He's a good man."

The silence could never have lasted long. They still had a lot to talk about, and Beth hadn't been able to get a handle on her racing heart since the moment Daryl had touched her. That momentum had carried her all the way to Atlanta, something that Maggie didn't address until they were just a block from the CDC. "So… phonecall isn't good enough?"

"No," Beth declared firmly. "Not good enough," she laughed, "I'm being so stupid." she buried her face in her hands, "Am I being stupid, Maggie?" her voice was muffled through her palms.

"Uhh…" she heard the turn signal click as Maggie prepared to pull into the CDC.

"Gee, thanks."

"You want the truth or don't ya?" Maggie parked the car and unsnapped her seat-belt but didn't get out right away.

"I don't have to like it," said Beth suppressing a smile that she thought was probably more the result of left-over endorphins than Maggie's glower.

"You're _not_ stupid. It's just a different sorta situation." Maggie's voice softened significantly, "You don't know what to do and you ain't thinking all that clear, which you're usually _pretty_ good about."

"You might be right," Beth looked down at her hands.

Maggie opened the door, "Wait here—but just think about this while I'm gone, why are you here talking to me instead of talkin' this over with Daryl?"

Beth blinked, realizing she'd left out a crucial bit of information. "Oh—that's 'cause the lawman got him."

If it hadn't been for the fact that Beth knew she was genuinely horrified to hear it, the expression on Maggie's face would've been comical.

"Just for questioning about where Merle is—but still, he's busy," Beth shrugged, biting her lip to keep a mischievous grin from taking over her face.

"Oh. That was mean," Maggie breathed a sigh of relief, mingled with a reluctant laugh.

"Sorry. Not thinking clearly," Beth reminded her, batting her eyes.

"I'll be right back."

And she was. It didn't look like Maggie was allowed to go a single step further than the front desk at the CDC. Beth could see armed guards standing sentinel at every possible entrance deeper into the mysterious facility. They had a cardboard box waiting for her that looked a little heavier than Maggie could comfortably carry. Beth jumped out of the car and relieved Maggie of the box. It was stuffed to the top of the lid with paper. With difficulty, she shoved it into the back seat.

"Alright, so Daryl's been taken in for questioning? Are you sure it's just about his brother?" Maggie's face was as red as the stop-light they were camped at. Beth pushed aside a fleeting impression that there was something Maggie was holding back. She couldn't think what it would be. "It's not 'cause they think he was involved?"

"I dunno," Beth admitted, she'd been trying not to think about that, but hearing Maggie say it pulled the fear out of the back of her mind and right to center-stage. "I hope not. He doesn't have a record, ya know. I hope nothing happens to change that. It'd make it really hard for him to…" she trailed off, too nervous to give voice to what she feared. She wanted him to be able to carve out some kind of a proper life for himself working on their farm, and leave all his unsavory dealings far in the past, but what if it was already too late? What if he'd done too much bad already?

"Don't worry. I may not be as adept as you are at… seeing things, but I can do it too. I'm startin' to pick up on the fact that Daryl's a smart guy. He won't say anything to give himself away."

Maggie's confidence and reassurance helped Beth breathe a little easier. "Yeah, you're right. And—I am gonna go talk to him. Tonight. I told dad I might stay overnight with you, since I don't got school tomorrow, but I'm gonna go back tonight."

"Did they ask why you were coming to see me?"

Beth shrugged, "I just said I wanted to see your new place."

"It's _glamorous_, lemme tell you," Maggie said with a roll of her eyes. "This is it," she added toneless as they slowed in front of a decidedly run-down apartment complex.

"You live in the shady part of town?" Beth scanned the area, half expecting to see some obvious signs of illegal activity between the narrow gaps on either side of the building.

"Sure do," Maggie sounded almost proud as she got out of the car again and looked up with a grimace at the building. "I might even buy a gun."

"I can't picture you with a gun," Beth admitted, trying to put the image together in her mind.

"Well, don't tell dad I said that, I'm half-serious."

"Do we need to bring that box with us?" Beth motioned to the back-seat of the car.

"No point bringing it up, I just gotta take it back to the firm. Has something to do with one of Andrea's cases." She locked the car with a click, "That'll have to be good enough."

In front of the door, Maggie held her key in her fist and rested it on the doorknob, pausing before she went to unlock it and let them in. "Listen. Before we go inside, there's somethin' I probably shoulda mentioned. Like—not just earlier when you came to the firm. I shoulda _called_ you two days ago. I didn't 'cause… I dunno, I guess I was sorta trying to protect you or something." Her sister was rambling.

Beth's confusion mounted as she watched her. Being able to read people generally, and her family in particular made it all the more upsetting when she didn't have any idea what was going on with them. "Maggie, you're kinda freakin' me out."

With a sigh, Maggie threw her head back. "There's just no good way to say this…" she groaned. "Merle," she put the key in the door, "is," she turned the knob, "here," she threw the door open, gesturing into the apartment in exasperation.

Beth's jaw dropped when she saw him and knew instantly that she hadn't misunderstood Maggie's confession. The older Dixon brother was indeed, inside her apartment. He was lounging in a ripped and threadbare armchair beside the window, a smoking cigarette perched in one heavily bandaged hand, resting on the windowsill by the fire-escape. "Hey, dollface!" he smiled widely at her.

* * *

**Rick and Daryl first—I just want to say that I'm sorry if it seems like Rick opened up awful fast. I've been nervous about that, but in my experience, alcohol tends to invoke oversharing even (and perhaps especially) in stoic manly-types. I used the Dr. Jenner confession scene from season one as a model to try and make it work, so hopefully it didn't end up coming off too OOC.**

**Just so we're all on the same page, ****_no_**** Merggie. Merggie no. I love the Gleggie. So, no Merggie in this story. A while back, I did play around with this one vaguely psychotic scifi drabble with Merggie undertones that might explode molten crazy all over at some future date. But I'm focused on this story right now, and it's not going there. Sorry to cut things before the explanation about what he's doing there, but I'll be uploading the next chapter real quick, promise and it's going to pick up right where this one left off.**

**Sanctuary (Closing) – Utada**


	18. Over-Protective

Without a word to adequately express how totally surreal this moment was to her, Beth stalked into the apartment. Feeling the desperate need to walk right up to Merle and pinched him to make sure he was real. But she could already see that he was, all six plus feet of him. His injured hand tried to wave at her and he nearly dropped his cigarette. He spread out over both arms of the chair, in ripped trousers, black wife-beater and a matching smirk of perfect self-satisfaction.

She heard Maggie close the door behind them.

"I told you, _do not_ smoke in my home," Maggie said between her teeth, she snaked around Beth and snatched the cigarette from Merle faster than he could flinch.

"Hey! I got the window open," Merle gestured to the window, looking wounded.

In response Maggie put-out the cigarette on the window sill and flicked it away.

"What?" Beth finally found her voice. "How did this happen?" She asked weakly gesturing around the apartment, unable to think of the proper way to express what precisely _this_ was.

Maggie sighed, crossing her arms and shrugging, "Let's call it a karmic joke, how about? Two days ago, on my lunch break at work, I spotted this lunatic—"

"I was about to knock over a pharmacy," Merle interrupted, "Not t'get _high_," he added when he took in Beth's glower. "Medication," he lifted his injured hand pointedly. "Gauze and such too."

"I bought the stuff for him and told him he could stay a few days. _Just_ a few days," she added, flicking a glare at Merle.

"Mighty Christian of your sister, don't ya think?"

"Your brother saved our asses last weekend," said Maggie in an even calm voice, one she was learning from lawyers, "Our farm's reputation and a little girl's well-being were at stake and he fixed it, fast and simple. I owe _him_." Maggie took a deep breath, glancing up at the ceiling, "But you've been enough trouble that it's startin' to break about even."

Merle only grinned at Maggie's sparking temper.

"His hand was infected. Helping dad with veterinary stuff came in handy."

"'Cause I'm an animal."

"You definitely are."

"Okay!" Beth stopped what was libel to burst into a full-blown argument by putting herself between the two of them, holding out a hand towards each of them in supplication as she closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "You first," she turned to face Maggie, "Yes. You shoulda called—but it's good you didn't," she added quickly, "I think I woulda been a wreck, trying to lie to Agent Grimes." She whirled on Merle next, "Your brother is worried _sick_ about you!"

"Agent Grimes?" Merle's brow was furrowed. He'd totally ignored what she'd said about Daryl. "That sumbitch who crashed _708_'s party?"

"He came looking for Daryl—asking about you."

Merle rubbed hard at his face with both hands, a muffled curse barely making its way through his tight fingers.

"He's _scared_ for you," she said firmly.

Giving her a pitying look, Merle scoffed, "Pfft. I'm fine. My brother's _fine_." But he did a double-take, his regard resting on Beth as his face went suddenly stoic. That natural frown that appeared whenever he wasn't running his mouth or forcing a crass grin took over and he searched her from her toes up. "Damn. Ya _really_ are sweet on my brother."

"Yes," she said automatically. Her hands curled into fists on either side of her, looking at him unblinking.

Pursing his lips, Merle nodded in approval after a moment. "Alright."

"C'mon," Maggie mumbled, "We gotta get ready—you sure you wanna come?"

"Why not?" Beth didn't want to go back to the farm just yet. Chances were Daryl wasn't ready to talk yet. She wasn't sure she knew what to say, and it seemed to be even harder for him to handle this kind of stuff.

"No _smoking_," was Maggie's farewell to Merle as she led Beth into the bedroom.

Merle's response was little more than a grumble, and he didn't look back at them as they left the living room with all its spare décor.

Maggie shut the door to her bedroom a little harder than was probably necessarily. "Urgh," she growled and stalked to her closet. "He's lucky that he's got Daryl for a brother, otherwise I woulda…" she trailed off, apparently unable to think of a worthy punishment. She was sorting through a collection of clothing at the back of the rack. "This should fit you, and those black heels. They're a little small on me anyway." She tossed Beth a dress.

She couldn't discern the shape of it as it landed in a soft jumble across her outstretched arms, but the fabric was soft and an intense matte black. "I'm gonna look like a ghost in this," Beth commented. She usually opted for paler colors, as the dark ones drew attention to just how _white_ she was.

"Go on and try it," Maggie said, half-recommending, half-ordering. She seemed torn between two other dresses for herself, one red and one black like Beth's.

"So—I'm definitely telling Daryl that Merle's here," Beth said as she started to change out of her jeans and t-shirt and into the black dress.

Maggie decided on red, throwing it unceremoniously onto her bed before she started looking through her shoes, "Yeah, I figured as much."

"If it was you, I'd wanna know."

"If it was me, it wouldn't _be_ me, 'cause I ain't a damn fool."

Beth pulled the dress over her head before she said, "Ya know what I mean," and checked herself in the mirror, pushed her hair out of the way and pulling a few wandering locks out from underneath the straps. The black did make her look pale, but it wasn't bad enough that she would bug Maggie about changing into something else.

Once they were dressed the sisters moved into the bathroom, picking out and applying make-up in silence. Finally, Maggie paused with her face still dotted with unblended foundation. "Am I… overbearing like him? Ever?" underneath the streaks of makeup Beth could still see a little red giving her away.

"Uhhh…" Beth started to grin, but Maggie looked serious and it wiped the smile from her face. "You can be bossy. Protective. I don't think it's a bad thing."

"Merle's protective. Of Daryl, I mean. Or so he makes it seem from his stories."

"You got Daryl stories from Merle?" Beth had to admit she was a little jealous to hear it, especially when Maggie rolled her eyes, a sure indication that she hadn't appreciated them as much as her younger sister would have.

"I couldn't avoid it—the man never shuts up."

Beth finished her hair and make-up faster than Maggie did. Mostly because she didn't do much with the hair part of it, just left it down and long, though she tried to smooth it out a little so it didn't look quite so much like she'd come straight from a farm. Maggie on the other hand took her time with the curling iron.

She'd expected to find Merle exactly where she'd left him, but he'd moved to the fridge. He must have been unimpressed by its contents, because he sighed when she entered the kitchen. "My damn pizza's never gonna get here," he grumbled, head still behind the fridge door.

"Why didn't you at least call him?" she wondered, crossing her arms and leaning into the doorframe.

He closed the fridge, and straightened raising his eyebrows in approval when he saw her. "_Shot_. Girl, you sure clean up nice."

"Thank you, Merle," she said, somewhat grudgingly. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Huh?" his glance was a bit overlong, making her frown deepen. "You say somethin'?"

"Why didn't you _call_ your brother and let him know you weren't dead?"

"Boy don't have hisself a cell phone, do he?" Merle pointed out with a roll of his eyes. "I lost _my_ phone on the unspeakable night in question, so he can't call me neither."

"You knew he'd go to the farm?" she asked.

"I guessed," Merle shrugged.

"So you coulda contacted us, and then him _through_ us."

"Can't see why you're so knotted up about this, dollface," Merle grumbled.

"If it was Daryl in trouble, _you'd_ wanna know."

"Hey—that boy don't get in trouble. _I_ keep him outta trouble," for the first time Merle took on a legitimately defensive tone as he stared her down, but a little color was compromising the confidence of his declaration. He knew it was a lie, but maybe he wanted it to be true. From what Beth had seen, Daryl would have better luck staying out of trouble without Merle's efforts to 'help' them both.

He didn't hold up for very long under her scrutinizing glare, finally brushing past her with a frown on his face as he fell back into the armchair. "So, tell me," he asked in a brighter tone, "He ain't givin' it to ya yet, is he? Nah, he's not about to love you up proper anytime soon."

She was sure that this was just retaliation. She'd made him feel uncomfortable, so he was going to try and do the same to her. She tried her best not to react at all, regarding him blankly instead.

"What a pussy," he chuckled to himself after he gave her another once-over.

Eager to change the topic before she started to blush, Beth shot the closed bedroom door a look and said, "How'd you hurt your hand?"

He lifted it, showing off the bandage—her sister's work. "Just a little cut, got it while tryin' to circumvent a fence. Wasn't much blood so I didn't worry 'bout it, but then it got a _little_ infected, so I had to worry."

"Didya really just run into Maggie? All convenient?"

"Well, yeah," he said, but he'd gone a bit pink. "Technically."

"Technically?"

"Mayhaps I happened to catch one of 'em lawmen sayin' the name of the firm she works at, as we were making our way outta Nick's… was in the area, kept an eye out. That kinda thing."

"Nothin' creepier than that?"

"Now who's being overprotective, huh?"

"I am. You tracked down my sister and moved in with her after you'd only known her five minutes?" Beth raised an eyebrow at him, but found that, to her surprise, she was fighting a smile threatening to break its way out from underneath her grimace.

It had to be her imagination, but Merle looked a little pale. Beth had often envied her sister's ability to intimidate someone with a few well-placed words and an unshaken look, but until recently, she hadn't much confidence in her own efforts to adopt this skill. His look hardened against her face, then tonelessly he said, "You gotta understand, dollface. I don't mean no mischief. I didn't come right away 'cause I didn't want to impose. I ran outta money and short on alibis and didn't have a whole lotta options, ya see? I just needed a place to crash and found myself in the area. I got alotta friends, but there ain't a one of 'em who I can really rely on. I so much as talk to 'em and it's gonna set off a whole heap of inner turmoil 'bout whether or not they should really risk helpin' me, and if giving me over to the lawman might spare trouble for them and their people in the long run."

"Your brother. You can rely on him," she pointed out, "He'd protect you."

Merle scoffed, but she knew that it was true, and she knew he was well aware of that.

"He loves you," she said simply.

Apparently, this was as much mushiness as Merle could handle, because he rolled his eyes and stood up immediately, pretending like he hadn't heard her. He sauntered over to his jacket, digging around for something—possibly another cigarette. He gave up just before there was a knock at the door.

"'Bout damn time," muttered Merle, but before he could get to the door, the rapid-fire of stiletto heels against the floor and a sudden gust of wind was all Beth registered before Maggie appeared between Merle in the front door, wrapped skin-tight in her red dress, make-up impeccable and especially fierce because of the hard expression on her face.

"My home, I'll get the door," said Maggie sharply. She tossed a few strands out of her eyes before she reached for the door.

"It's just my pizza—"

Before he could finish, Maggie flung the door open. Sure enough there was a young Asian man standing in the hallway holding a pizza, but between the bemused expression on his face and the loose suit and tie combo that he was wearing, something didn't seem right with the picture and for a moment the four of them stared at one another, not saying anything.

"Uh. Hello," said the Asian guy.

Maggie whirled on Merle, "With _what_ money did you plan to pay for this?"

"I mighta been lookin' for weed and discovered a couple twenties snuggled in the back of your unmentionable drawer."

In response Maggie gave him a murderous look.

"It's been over an hour, so it don't matter anyhow!" Merle pushed past her with a shrug and snatched the box from the young man. "Pizza's free. Tough luck, Kato."

"Oh I—" the young man started to protest but in an instant Merle had slammed the door shut in his face.

Beth watched her older sister literally tremble with fury as she tugged at her dress, took a deep breath and turned to let him have it, "You can't just—"

She was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

"What?" Maggie threw the door open and faced the Asian guy again.

"I'm not the pizza guy, I mean, I used to be, but that's not why I'm here." He sounded surprisingly put-out for someone who'd shown up on their doorstop with a pizza. He threw out a hand to his side, letting it smack into the side of his slacks, jangling keys.

"Okay?" Maggie quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Me and the pizza guy made it to your door at the same time, but he was running late—in a hurry. He just handed it to me and booked it." He explained, combing a hand self-consciously through black hair that could use a trim. "I'm Glenn Rhee, I'm interning with Dr. Jenner at the CDC. You're Maggie Greene?"

"Oh. Yeah, I am." Maggie straightened up, but from the expression on her face, Beth could tell that she was no less confused.

He cleared his throat, "Yeah uh—the thing is, Dr. Jenner's probably just crazy but he's missing some notes and now he _swears_ that _I_ somehow mixed them up with some other papers, which doesn't make any sense because I wasn't anywhere near—"

"This story got a point?" Maggie sighed, her annoyance with Merle bleeding over into this new conversation.

Beth's heart sank for Glenn in that moment, but he recovered from her sister's prickliness with a swallow, "Yeah. I was getting there."

Seeming to realize that she was being harsh, Maggie closed her eyes and gave a little grimace, "I'm sorry," she said more softly.

"Wha—how'd you get her to do that?" Merle demanded through a mouthful of pizza.

Ignoring him, Maggie continued. "I'm guessing you need to get into the box I took from the CDC?"

"Correct," said Glenn with a nervous nod.

"Kinda against policy, ya know? You guys gave it up to us already." Maggie was drumming her nails against her waist, pinching her lower lip between her teeth a moment but Beth knew that Maggie was going to let him take a look in the box.

"I'm sure it's not even there," said Glenn apologetically, "but I've gotta look."

Stepping into the hallway, Maggie ushered him along with one hand, "…Alright, let's go." They left Beth and Merle in the apartment.

The second she had him alone again, Beth faced Merle, arms crossed. He'd set the pizza on the armchair and was leaning back against the wall beside the window—already on his second slice. "What? Ya want some?" he gestured flippantly to the box, "Go on."

"You still haven't told me why."

"Why? What?" Merle asked dangerously, eyes daring her to get into it again, but she wasn't afraid of him.

"Why you didn't try to tell your brother."

"I told you, I'm _fine_," he said wearily.

"Yeah—we're all fine," Beth agreed, "That's not a reason. Go on. Starts with because."

"_Because_—" he tossed the crust back into the box a little flick of his bad wrist that made him wince. "'Cause, it'd only be a problem."

"To who?" but she thought she knew the answer, she just wanted to hear him say it.

"A problem for him, alright?" said Merle roughly, "It's bad 'nough I gotta deal with all this. Might as well do my part to keep him out of it—like I said, I keep that boy outta trouble."

"Because you care about him too."

Not looking at her, Merle managed a kind of nod. More of a jerk really, his eyes stayed averted and his frown was fixed.

Satisfied for now, Beth left him to think on that a moment, going into the kitchen to get some water. After spending some time with him, it seemed like Maggie had worried a little that she might occasionally treat her younger sister the way that Merle treated Daryl, but Beth felt confident that she could offer reassurance. Merle and Daryl's relationship wasn't anything like her and Maggie's, really. They might fight, but the sisters were open with each other. Getting Merle to admit that he was concerned about his younger brother's welfare had clearly been akin to torture for the man. All the same, Beth didn't feel even a little bit bad about being a torture technician.

In minutes, Maggie and Glenn returned with the box from the CDC. "I'm sorry about this," Glenn dropped the box unceremoniously on the floor. It hit with a loud crash. He crouched beside it, loosening his tie with one fidgeting hand before he sighed, pulled the lid off and faced the contents of the box with the purest exasperation.

"Seems like more of a hassle for you than me," Maggie pointed out, she sauntered around him until she came to perch on the armrest of the chair currently occupied by pizza.

"Y'all gotta get goin' to this fancy to-do don't ya?" Merle had managed to return to his usual level of surliness. "I can let Short Round out when he's done."

"This gonna take long?" Maggie didn't seem too keen on the idea of leaving Glenn and Merle alone in her apartment. She picked at the pizza, popping a bit of sausage into her mouth.

"Maybe," Glenn admitted, he only looked up from the stack of papers for a split second, but Beth saw red in his neck as his eyes caught sight of her legs, crossed over the arm of the chair.

"Don't trust me to babysit, sweetcheeks? I'm a good babysitter, ask your sister," Merle shot Beth a grin, he seemed determined to brush aside any awkwardness from before.

"He's alright," Beth thought she was being overly generous with that assessment, but from Maggie's frown it seemed like her sister was having uneasy thoughts about leaving these two all alone in her apartment.

"You two…" Glenn's gaze shifted from Merle to Maggie, trying to fake a tone of casual interest, "You're… together?" his neck got an even deeper shade of red. "I mean, you live here too?"

Beth covered her mouth to suppress a giggle as Maggie balked.

"Oh, hell no," said Maggie with an expression of the purest revulsion.

"Well, not _yet_ anyway," said Merle fighting a grin. "But I think I can warm y'up."

Maggie clearly didn't think it was funny at all that Glenn had wondered if they were a couple. She rolled her head over to face Merle. "If you were the last man on this earth, I would ditch you and raid a sperm bank to repopulate humanity on my own."

"I do believe that's the coldest thing any woman's ever said to me." Merle sounded somewhat proud of her. "Top twenty, at least."

"I'm sorry," Glenn winced as he caught Maggie's eye again, then retreated into the box of papers again.

"We'd better go," Maggie stood up, leaving the two of them here alone was the last thing she wanted to do, but as she glanced into the kitchen to check the clock on the microwave, Beth saw her sister's resolve harden. "Yeah."

"The kids will be fine," Beth couldn't stop giggling to herself. "Nice to meet you, Glenn. Bye Merle! Oh, I'm telling Daryl you're here, by the way." She stepped into the hall with a little wave. Glenn waved back vaguely, already looking overworked and sheepish. The back of his shirt was untucked and his collar needed to be smoothed down.

But he looked downright dapper compared to Merle, who'd shoved the pizza-box onto the floor so that he could lounge again, a bit of marinara sauce somehow finding its way onto the collar of his shirt. "Ya tell my brother to take _good_ care of you—tell him that if he's any kinda man he oughta—" but he stumbled a little over what Daryl ought to do to her when he met her sister's eye.

Maggie had paused in the doorway of her apartment, regarding him with a sharp green glare.

"Be real nice. Do _nice_ things for ya," he finished quickly.

"Not really a save, Merle," Maggie informed him as she shut the door.

* * *

**Bugs-bunny-style messy kiss to everyone who has favorited, followed or recommended me or this fic! It's so great getting to know and hear from more of you as the story moves right along.**

**Also, this is several chapters later than I meant it to be, but a shout-out to mi madrastra. I'm a barista. In Salt Lake. So when I frantically call the one person I know who lived/worked on a farm in Georgia demanding "WHAT FARM DO?!" and she replies by giving me everything I need to know in great big, loving and mildly Spanglish heaps, she gets major props. Authors don't write romance novels, their cooler friends who tell them awesome life-experience stories do.**

**Answer – Sarah McLachlan**


	19. Fortune

***Highest-of-fives to all Bethylers* BIG thank you, thank you, muchas gracias to everyone who has favorited, followed and recommended! I love you—Lots of love to y'all!**

* * *

"Ya ever thought about goin' into law enforcement?" Rick had stopped drinking. But not before he switched to some harder stuff. Apparently he was staying the night in town. A motel-room key shuffled back and forth on the counter between his hands as they talked.

"Never thought 'bout goin' into anythin'," Daryl shook himself, his slurring tongue was loose. It wasn't the perfect truth, but any thoughts he'd ever had about making a steady living had never been more than fleeting things. There was always something or someone to remind him he was good for nothing. Not to mention, he'd spent so much of his time trying to avoid cops that it would be against his very nature to seek out their company in any capacity.

"It's just… the way you searched for your brother. You can think like him—and these people you know, who've you've spent so much time around. You _understand_ how they think on a level that a cop needs to." Rick explained. The glassy, pensive look that had been shimmering in his bloodshot eyes for the past few hours started to unravel as he exposed his thoughts. "Can't help but consider it. You oughta consider it."

"Ain't that the kinda thing you figure out before you get to be my age?"

Rick just shrugged.

"Nah, forget it," Daryl gave his face a little slap and straightened up. "You're lit, man."

"Yeah," Rick agreed. "But I'm still right. It's somethin' you could do if you wanted to do it."

"I don't," grumbled Daryl.

"Fair 'nough, but you got the skills."

"Didn't find my brother," Daryl pointed out.

"…Do me a favor, and keep a line on that," Rick started to get up from the barstool, slowly, as if he expected to lose his balance. "I'll be in touch. Let you know what I learn and you do the same." He passed his card across the counter to Daryl. "I'm in no shape to give you a ride—I'll call ya a taxi."

Daryl snatched up the card and shoved it in his pocket, then snorted, "Ya see where we are? I'll walk."

"That's a _long_ walk," said Rick doubtfully.

"I'm headin' straight home, not the farm. It's closer." Barely. "'Sides, I could use a walk. Got a lot on my mind."

"Mm," Rick left the bartender a tip and gathered up his suit-jacket. "Farmer's daughter." He didn't even say it like a question. He knew that's what Daryl was trying hard not to say in so many words. "Sorry I took you away from her—doesn't seem like the kinda thing you'd wanna put on the back burner… Face her and go in deep." He stopped and frowned as his choice of words.

"Good _hell_," Daryl stopped and dug the heels of his palms against his screwed-shut eyes. He was too intoxicated as it was to fight the merest suggestion of untoward thoughts.

"Uh—ya know what I mean."

"Not sure I do," mumbled Daryl as they stepped off the curb together, crossing the deserted road. The sun had set, and all the life seemed to be left at their backs, inside the bar. On the street there was nothing but cicadas and mosquitos.

"Look—ya listened to me bitch and moan about Lori…" he stopped in the road to face him a moment, at his back the neon sign of the shitty motel flickered. "She always tried to tell me that I didn't… talk enough. Didn't _share_. I like to think I learned something from all we went through—and maybe that's it. You gotta speak. More important, you gotta listen. But speakin' lets her know that ya did that much, so… it's important too. Speak."

Daryl only grunted in response, a reflex of defiance kicking in.

A slight smirk on Rick's face told him that the lawman had a pretty good idea what Daryl was thinking. "I'll be seein' you."

Daryl nodded in place of a goodbye and the two of them parted ways, as natural as anything; Rick disappeared into the shady parking lot of the motel, and Daryl stumbled in the direction of the road back to the farm. Speak?

He'd had a couple of hours to try and figure out what had prompted Rick to spill so much about his life to a criminal. Even if he didn't know for sure that's what Daryl was, the man had to be smart enough to bet on it. At first, Daryl hadn't questioned it because he could tell that Rick was genuinely hurting, it was only later that he realized that it might have been some kind of technique. Some people were more inclined to open up and spill their secrets to someone who'd done the same for them. If that had been Rick's angle, Daryl was proud to assert that it hadn't worked.

But as he made his way down the road, cutting through the overgrowth where it suited him, he decided that Rick didn't have an angle. The man was smart enough to know that it wasn't the sort of thing that would work on Daryl. He was sincerely trying to get things off his chest, which meant that he might also be sincerely trying to help him.

…Speak?

Maybe he should just _go._ Leave the farm and try to forget about the girl. But that option only made him ache. He wanted to be nearby. He wanted her just close enough… except he was feeling now, how it wouldn't be enough for long. Over the last week, as he'd tried to keep his distance, there was a constant pull telling him that he wasn't satisfied, just looking at her. He needed her closer, bit by bit.

He knew that Rick was right. There were some words that were supposed to go along with all this looking and failing not to touch. Speak. The thought rattled around his head, making him feel keyed-up in a new kind of way that he didn't like. She wanted him to talk, he'd worked that out. She asked him questions and digging her way into him. But what did she want him to say?

Whatever it was she wanted from him, he was bound to do the wrong thing.

He'd tried doing nothing and that didn't work.

He'd tried being mean and she saw through it.

Now Rick was telling him to speak, but it wasn't lost on Daryl that it was a specific type of talking. He was meant to speak truth and shit about feelings and the thought of it twisted him into knots, made him grind his teeth. He was bound to chew his own tongue off, if he didn't control his twiddling. Part of him felt inclined to just keep walking down the road, rather than make his way towards the farm and face her.

_C'mon Dixon. Be a man, for the sake of all holy hell._

He definitely wasn't prepared for this.

* * *

Thinking too much about Merle and Daryl kept Beth from asking the kinds of questions that she usually would. Questions like, _'Maggie, where are we going?'_ and _'Why are we dressed like this?'_. She took it for granted that they must be going to some kind of party that the firm was throwing, or invited to, but there was no curiosity in her, not until they walked into the large, twilight-lit reception hall and she saw a few hundred more people than she'd expected.

"Where are we?" Beth tugged self-consciously at a lock of hair hanging over her shoulder, now wishing she'd spent a few more minutes trying to make herself look decent.

Maggie, of course, looked incredible, especially given that she'd basically thrown this look together, and under stressful Merle-filled conditions. She smoothed out the front of her dress, looking a little nervous, which actually helped Beth relax. "New art gallery. One of the partner's oldest clients has something to do with it. I guess they're friends, because he wanted the whole firm to come to the opening. Including lowly paralegals," she smiled and the nervousness fell away as a man in a stylish grey suit approached them.

"Maggie —you're needed at the Russian Roulette table." He motioned to the far corner where Beth could see a group of people circled around a table with shot-glasses in front of them. She wrinkled her brow as she started to make out more such stations set up all through the reception hall, through a mass of loud, exuberant bodies. There were several poker-tables, black-jack and a large wheel set up on the far side of the gallery.

"Okay—what is it really though?" Maggie quirked an eyebrow.

"Everyone has a glass, all but one is a perfectly ordinary shot. One is—" but he didn't have to explain, he merely glanced back at the table, and the girls followed his gaze, just in time to see a woman in a long blue dress backing away, eyes watering and face screw up. "Well—it's making for some absolutely classic video."

Sure enough, phones were out, recording while those closest to see the woman's mini-fit laughed.

"Yeah, there's no way I'm doing that. Medium salsa is as hard-core as I get. Mr. Samuels, this is my sister Beth, she's my date for tonight."

"Hey—nice to meet you. Are you twenty-one?"

"Eighteen," Beth admitted.

"You'll have to find—" he glanced around the room, "Where did she go? Hang on a minute. You need to get a stamp."

"The theme is Fortune," Maggie explained as he left them. "That's why there's all the games. Andrea said something about Tarot readings, too. Might be fun?"

They didn't wait long enough in the doorway to feel put-out or forgotten. A young woman scurried up to where they were waiting and quickly gave Beth a black X on the back of her hand to indicate that the bar couldn't serve her. For the first twenty minutes or so, Beth stuck close to Maggie as she weaved her way through the other guests, stopping to chat with lawyers and friends while Beth smiled pleasantly and wondered where they were hiding the food. She ought to have taken Merle up on his offer to have some of the pizza, but she hadn't been thinking about her stomach at the time.

Gradually, as she got more comfortable, she started to drift from Maggie, to the walls. The gallery was a curious mix of modern, surreal and traditional art. She couldn't discover much of a pattern to how the pieces had been put together, or what their association might be, at least in the main chamber. Maybe things made more sense further into the gallery.

Maggie was deep in conversation with two co-workers and looked likely to stay in the same spot for a while. Beth tapped her shoulder and gestured to the next room, letting her know which direction she was going.

She could breathe a little easier once she exited in the main gallery. This room was all art, with a few guests speaking quietly towards the back, next to a large painting of dozens of intricately detailed, sheathed Samurai swords stacked close on top of one another, from floor to ceiling. In the center of the room was a small tent made of heavy material. Next to it a sign indicated that this was the place to get your cards read.

The door of the tent opened and a woman exited with a sheepish smile on her face. Beth hesitated just a moment before she decided it was her turn.

Inside the tent, Beth breathed in warm and thick air that smelled of burning incense. A couple of cushions were laid out, sitting on one of them was a young woman, probably not more than a few years older than Beth, with straight blonde hair and large blue eyes. She smiled when Beth walked in and nodded towards the other cushion.

"Do you have a spread preference?" the girl asked, she had a relaxed, casual air that Beth wouldn't have expected.

"No—I don't really know anything about…" but then she shrugged, remembering the name of one spread, "Celtic Cross?"

The girl nodded. "Traditional, I like it. Go on, get comfy."

Beth knelt down

"What's your name?"

"Beth Greene."

"I'm Amy," she shook her hand, then proceeded to shuffle and mix the deck on the cloth between them. Hanging from her neck was a delicate chain with a pendant in the shape of a mermaid.

Once the spread was complete, Amy turned over the first card in the very center. It was up-side down. "Ace of Cups, reversed," she traced a finger over the bowl of the drawn golden cup on the card, wearing a pensive frown. "Have you been more reserved lately? Suppressing your feelings? Your thoughts?"

"I guess—but it's changing," Beth squirmed a little in place, suddenly uncomfortable. She'd never lent any credence to this kind of thing, it was just for fun. All the same, in made her uneasy as she began to wonder if, by coincidence, it might make her admit certain things about herself.

"The Knight of Swords, crossing," Amy turned over the next cards, "Something or someone is changing things for you."

"Someone," Beth admitted, leaning over to better see the image of the warrior on the card.

"A stubborn, hasty person. A man of action. But that doesn't mean he can't communicate."

Beth rolled her eyes at that, unable to keep a smirk from drawing her lips apart.

Amy flipped over the next card, "Eight of Swords. He's not the reason you're holding back—you've been lonely. You feel trapped," the next card turned over before Beth was finished processing what Amy had already told her. "The Fool. You see now that childhood is over. You had your beginning, a time of innocence and freedom."

She remembered why she hadn't ever been able to get into this kind of thing. When they were wrong, it was pointless and when they were right it was creepy.

Amy's face was growing concerned now, she wore the smallest of frowns as her eyebrows pulled together to create a crease in her forehead. The expression on her face lightened as she turned the next card over and she gave an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. "High Priestess. Giving up what you had in the past is worth it. You have new abilities now. You can trust your intuition." She turned the next card, the image of a heavenly being confronting a man and woman standing hand in hand. "Judgment. This can lead to a new beginning, absolution even."

"You were starting to scare me for a minute there," Beth laughed nervously.

Amy raised an eyebrow at her, "Well, we're not out of the woods yet." She turned over the next card, a man subduing a lion, "You're strong and brave. Whatever you might think of yourself and this situation you've found yourself in—this says _you_ are in control."

She wasn't so sure about that, and had to shake herself mentally. It was just images on pieces of paper. It didn't have to reflect reality.

"Five of Wands," Amy frowned, "You've got a lot of obstacles. Outside conflict." She pointed to the last two cards that hadn't been flipped yet. "This first one is going to represent either your hopes or your fears. It'll be up to you to decide which," she turned it over. "The Lovers."

Beth blinked at the couple embracing on the card.

"So, hope or fear?" Amy asked, but she didn't seem to expect an answer. Maybe it was the expression on Beth's face that spurred her onwards, "Now—the outcome, of all this…" she turned the card over but didn't say the name this time. She didn't need to. Beth could read it just fine herself.

Death.

"Don't let that freak you out," Amy shrugged one shoulder coolly and started to pick up the cards to put them back in the deck, going backwards so that the first one she replaced was the image of the figure with a skull for a face. "It just means a change. Something is going to be very different in your world, from here on out." But then she added, rather unhelpfully, "Obviously, it _can_ mean literal death."

"It means you can't go back to the way things were before?" Beth guessed.

"Exactly. But that's always true, isn't it?"

Nodding, Beth felt a little calmer. Her first thoughts about getting her cards read were right on. She shouldn't take it so seriously.

"So—was I right on? I love it when I'm right on," Amy bit her lip excitedly, looking even younger.

"There were definite… correlations," Beth admitted.

"Cool. Is there anyone else out there?" she gestured to the flap at Beth back.

With a quick peak, Beth shook her head.

"Good—I'm going to get something to eat." Amy tucked her cards away in the back of the tent next to a purse covered in beads and another image of a mermaid.

Beth left the tent first, with Amy right behind her. "You're not here with the lawyers are you?" she gave Beth a once-over.

"No," Beth said, "I'm just here to see my sister—she works at the firm."

"Oh cool, so does mine. I'm studying at Georgia State right now. Cards are just a hobby—but she told me to come give readings tonight. Seemed like a sweet gig," Abruptly her unpracticed yet easy demeanor made more sense to Beth. "Any idea where they're hiding the food?"

"Nope, sorry."

"Two rooms that way." A voice interrupted them.

Both girls started. They hadn't seen that there was anyone else there. A willowy, elegant woman wearing a floor-length white dress stood with her back to them, inspecting the painting of the swords up close. She had one hand pointing to their right. Her skin was rich and dark, the same deep color as her manicured dreads, twisted on top of her head in a knot.

"Thanks!" said Amy and she swept away.

The woman in front of the sword painting turned just enough so that Beth could see her face. It was appropriately flawless. She had a sophisticated air, her eyes flickered to Beth's and she smiled, "Are you here for the art, the food, or both?"

Honestly, she wasn't sure at this point, what Maggie meant by taking her here. Probably she was just trying to keep her occupied while she worked up the guts to go home. "I'm here."

The woman's smile spread, showing off perfect white teeth. Beth noticed her gaze drop to her left hand and the black X drawn there, she opened her mouth to say something, but stopped short as the harsh click of heels alerted them to the entrance of a third woman.

"Michonne, good to see you," Andrea had changed into a cocktail dress, similar in color and style to Maggie's. The red made her blonde hair look all the more golden.

"Almost didn't make it," Michonne admitted with a shake of her head, crinkling her nose. "My babysitter got the flu. Your friend Samuels offered up his daughters to help out at the last minute. They seem like good girls."

* * *

The party might have been a lot of fun if Beth hadn't been so preoccupied. She tried to make small-talk with some of Maggie's friends and co-workers, encouraging them to get their cards read, just for fun. She eventually found the food and ended up talking for a long while with Amy, who read her palm as well, letting her know that the lines indicated she was deeply sentimental and destined for greatness, which was a nice thing to hear, even if it wasn't true. It was after the sun had gone down that Beth had her revelation.

She could talk about it with Maggie all she wanted. She could seek divination. She could pray. She could think about it all she wanted, but it wasn't going to change what she knew she needed to do. She was glad she'd come. Glad that she'd learned where Merle was and that she'd sorted through her feelings on her own for a few hours, but the outcome was always going to be the same. As Amy had divined. Change.

"I've gotta tell mom and dad," Beth said.

She and Maggie were back in Maggie's car, driving to the firm where Beth had left her coupe.

Maggie started and risked turning to look at her as she slowed to a stop at the intersection.

Beth had rolled her window down to let the wind pick up her hair and toss it around her face in soft waves, but now she sighed and shut it. "That's how it's gotta end up anyway. I tell them, or it's not real." She turned and looked at Maggie, searching for understanding in her sister's face.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea." Maggie pulled a face. "I mean—do you think they're there yet?"

"I'm just worried that Daryl will have to leave. That's really it. I don't care if they're mad. They'd be wrong, and I think they'd see that, with a little time," she sighed, "But, I don't want him to lose a good job—but maybe I could convince mom to talk to Louise Bush or someone else. He could work on another farm nearby," but the moment she voiced that idea out-loud, she didn't like it. If he was trying to pull away from her now, it would be that much easier if he was sent somewhere else with the disapproval of her family at his back.

As if reading her mind, Maggie shook her head. "You can't force this, you know. _I_ think he's crazy about you, but if he's conflicted about it at all… and it looks like he is. I dunno Beth. It's delicate enough. Ya don't gotta rush. You don't need to run towards some goal right now, just slow down to a walking pace. Give it a few weeks. You _just_ kissed him. Go try doin' a little more of that first."

She was right. Beth knew she was right, but the thought of sneaking around and lying to her parents much longer made her feel sick. Sometimes, it made her feel even worse than when she imagined what the scene might look like when she _did_ tell them. She finally nodded when she noticed that Maggie was still looking at her in concern. "Okay. Okay, I'll wait a few weeks."

Maggie pulled up beside Beth's coupe, the only car left in the firm's parking lot. "Ya sure I can keep this?" Beth tugged at the hem of the black dress.

"It looks better on you anyway," Maggie gave her a tight-lipped smile.

"Alright. See ya Maggie. Don't let Merle drive you too crazy."

Maggie grunted in response, but Beth could see that she was fighting a grin.

The drive home gave her time to think over all the reasons why Maggie was right and to try and work out what to do next.

No one expected her back, so she didn't go back. Not to the house. Shortly after midnight she pulled off the road that wrapped around the far side of the farm and locked the door. It would be a bit of a hike to get to Daryl's camp from this side, so she took off Maggie's borrowed high heels and pulled her cowboy boots back on. A short ways into the trees she found where he'd stashed his truck, just out of sight of the road.

He'd had all afternoon and that evening to think. Hopefully, it had been enough time.

* * *

**I had this plan of only being in Atlanta/Rick Interrogation mode for one chapter. I also had this plan of the story being 70K. Clearly, plans are stupid. There's still quite a few more words to come. Yes'ms I did cut it right before they're reunited, because that deserves its very own chapter, I think. Sorry for the length of this sequence, I hope it was fun, at least.**

**I Wanna Get Better – Bleachers**


	20. Home Again, Home Again

For the last mile home, Daryl left the road and wove his way over uneven terrain through trees. Cutting through the woods meant a shorter distance, in theory, but his legs were aching by the time he found his way back to his camp. He wasn't sure how long it had taken him to walk from the bar but it didn't matter much to him; his sleeping schedule was all screwed up from taking a couple of night-watch shifts earlier in the week, and even when he didn't have that excuse, he'd never been an easy sleeper. He was supposed to finish putting up the new fence in the morning. He couldn't afford the hang-over that already seemed inevitable.

He knelt down in front of the tent and unzipped the door, then started to crawl in on hands and knees, but his hand unexpected closed against a soft, petite leg. There was already someone inside.

"Beth?"

She'd been lying down in his tent, curled up, asleep or close to it, until he inadvertently grabbed her. She sat up, and he was barely able to make out her pretty features in the darkness, but he thought he could sense a nervous smile. "Hey Daryl, this is actually comfier than I thought it'd be."

"What're ya…" He'd been about to stumble his way through asking what she was doing out here, when he remembered his hand resting against her bare skin and a wave of shivers took a hold of him. He should let go of her, but somehow his hand slid up to her knee until he felt the hem of soft material, "What're ya wearing?" His eyes started to adjust to the darkness in the tent and she leaned forward just enough so that he could see her better.

One strap of her dress had slid down her shoulder, but she didn't seem to have noticed it. "Why're you back so late?" She took both his wrists in her hands and gently began to pull him into the tent.

He obeyed without much pressure or persuasion, finding it easier to fall into her than do anything else. There wasn't much room in the tent and as he took a seat right beside her, one arm easily wrapped around her shoulder, his fingertips ghosted along the back of her arm a moment and he held his breath while he plucked up the will to put her strap back into place, quickly. He wanted to leave it there a moment, wanted to hold onto her, but he ended up balling his hand into a fist and "…Was at the bar with Rick for a while," he finally answered.

"Rick?" she tilted her face towards his, a little bit of relief in her voice. "You call him Rick now? I guess things went well?"

"He's alright," he swallowed. "Then, took walk after."

She leaned over to pull her phone out of the purse shoved into the corner of the tent, her skirt trailing a little too high up her leg. The cold glow of her cell-phone illuminated tempting, creamy skin. "It's two am!"

"It was a real _long_ walk," even in the dark he couldn't stop staring at her.

"…I went to Atlanta," she set her phone down at sat back upright, scooting in closer to him.

"Pfft. You win."

Beth giggled, but it was stifled quickly, she was anxious. He hadn't picked up on it at first; probably, because he was alternating between mentally feeling her up and mentally slapping himself; she looked too good. She felt incredible.

He could hear her fiddling with something in her hands. A click proceeded a flood of golden light as she turned on his small electric lantern so they could see one another better. She looked sleepy, except for her eyes, dilated to mostly black and just a rim of pale blue. Her skin flushed under his gaze.

"Listen, Beth. I wanna talk 'bout… all this," he tried to pick the right words to describe what he wanted to talk about, but 'all this' was what came tumbling out. He got the bright idea to make a gesture to indicate what he meant, but without really meaning to, or thinking about it, he lifted up one rough hand and cupped her face, his thump brushing over her mouth. He felt her stiffen, thought he heard her breath catch. "…but I am _real_ drunk right now," he said slowly, by way of explanation, the tips of his fingers rolling over the apples of her cheeks.

"So, I should probably go," she breathed into his face and the sudden warmth drew him in closer.

He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his hand. Why was it so easy to see her, even in the dark? "You should go," he said with conviction. "I'll walk ya. There's wolves out there. Dave and Tony should be on night-watch right now. Not sure I trust 'em."

"I understand," she sounded quiet. There was a heaviness in her voice that made him question whether she was really alright with him dismissing her like this. He didn't want to do it, but he couldn't keep her around when he was like this. "But, you should know—Merle's staying with Maggie."

"Hm?" He heard her, but her words didn't register for a moment. They listened to cicadas in the woods. "Wait. What?"

"He's alright—he's been hiding out, staying away from everyone he knows, but he ran into Maggie—well, he kind of tracked her down, really."

"My brother is with your sister?" Daryl repeated what he'd understand, confusion heavy on top of him, but mostly he felt relieved. Not knowing where his brother got to had been a torment for the last two weeks. He could only tell himself in so many different ways that Merle couldn't be dead before it started to feel like a desperate lie. "He's fine?"

"He's absolutely fine—I saw him when I was in Atlanta to talk to Maggie. He's staying at her place," said Beth brightly.

His head swam and he gave into the unstable sensation, falling back to lie down and cover his face with his hands.

"Daryl, y'okay?" Beth leaned over him, the tickling ends of her blonde hair brushed across the backs of his hands, falling between his wrists to stroke along his neck.

"Just lemme process this," he let out a tight bark of laughter into his hands. "My brother is staying with Maggie. Holy hell, she's _gotta_ hate Dixons by this point."

"Nah."

With his eyes still covered, he couldn't see what she was doing, but he could feel her as she started to shift into a new position beside him. She stretched one arm across his chest, curling into his side and pressing her cheek against his arm. He caught a handful of her hair through his fingers as she settled in, and he let the soft locks slide up to his knuckles.

"She's doing it to help _you_." She told him, turning her face to brush her lips against his skin. "I think it's to help Merle a little. I think secretly, deep down, she likes him too. But she said she owed you, and I could tell she meant it."

They didn't owe him nothing and he thought about saying as much, but the feel of her wrapped against his side and her hair tangled in his fingers kept him hostage, tongue in a knot.

"He wanted to tell you where he was," one shaking hand drew a tentative line over the top of his collarbone, dipping across his neck, her light fingers only intensified the heady feel of having her so close and still wanting her closer. "He didn't want you to get into trouble 'cause of him."

"Bit late for that," grumbled Daryl, but he still found that he felt lighter inside. He was afraid to hope too much. They weren't safe yet. Not by a long shot.

"I'm pretty jealous," he felt her smiling against his shoulder. "Maggie got to hear stories about ya from Merle."

_Well, that's humiliating._ But it was hard to be too irked about anything, knowing that Merle was alright and having this beautiful woman practically right on top of him. "Dumbass best not be wearin' out his welcome."

Beth giggled again, lifting her head up just enough to peer at him shyly, her fingers curled against the collar of his shirt. "What about me? Am I wearing out my welcome?"

Wasn't she supposed to be leaving? _Oh, well._ A traitorous voice growled at him as his hand fisted into the blonde tangle, bringing her open mouth to his. His slanting lips started soft, gradually stroking her. She made a soft noise in the back of her throat as he increased pressure, worried that he was too vigorous too fast; he started to ease off, only for her to deepen the kiss. Her hands slid up to his neck and around the back of his head. They'd barely begun to touch each other and already he was trying to get a handle on himself, trying to wrestle back control of his body. Rippling sensations coursed from the tips of her fingers and her lips, all through him he felt the warmth of her, so close. She moved away from his mouth, kissing his jawline and drawing her nails back down to his chest. Her hips leaned into his as one leg slid up to his knee.

Even outside of his usual senses, Daryl knew he'd better keep this contained. He caught both her hands in his; lacing their fingers together he squeezed tight. She was such a small thing, her delicate white fingers emphasized how large and beat-up his own hands were. He drew his thumbs over the backs of her hands, easing up to just glide lightly over the surface as he remembered that his touch couldn't feel that good with all the callouses.

When he looked back up at her face, she was still breathing in shallow draws, eyes questioning him. Her chest expanding against their clasped hands. "Alright?" she murmured.

"I ain't never been so alright."

She leaned in again, lips half off of his mouth as she just applied enough pressure to send another spark through him. "I thought you might still be angry with me."

He groaned. He hadn't forgotten what a total asshat he'd been earlier, but his guilt redoubled as he recalled some of the things he'd said to her, the sharp tone he'd used and her firm rejection of all his excuses. "I shouldn't've yelled at ya like that. I'm a dick."

"Could you promise me somethin'?"

"What?" already suspicious, Daryl was determined not to agree just because her foot was still drawing against his ankle as she lay against him.

"You gotta stop avoiding me. I mean—I get that we're gonna have to be careful not to give anythin' away to my parents, but don't act like I ain't even there. Don't try and scare me or chase me off neither."

That hadn't worked out anyway. Maybe it was just because he'd never fully committed, but he wasn't even capable of trying anymore. "Look, if this ain't a surrender I don't know what is. Y'already won, Greene."

"You won't go changin' your mind?" She closed her teeth on top of her bottom lip, still shimmering with a little moisture.

He was listening. Maybe, it was because Rick had told him to, and maybe it was just because he'd meant it—he wasn't going to fight her any more. He was listening and it only took him a few seconds of quiet thought to work out that she was really trying to tell him she was scared that he'd leave her hanging. He hadn't been straight-forward with her, and so far he'd done a lot to push her back. What if he just took off, like he'd implied he would earlier that day?

She needed reassurance, and he wasn't sure how to say it, how to tell her that he was sorry he'd hurt her and that he wouldn't do it again. To tell her that he _did_ care. The words were locked up tight inside and for a few minutes he searched for the key, pulsing his hands against hers.

He'd tried to deny it to himself, tried to rationalize that she couldn't really feel this way about him; she could never care for someone like him. If she did, it was just a crush, caused by who knew what, but it couldn't have anything to do with him, really.

She was too smart for that, too sure of herself. He felt ashamed that he'd ever doubted, ever let fear try and convince him that she was too young, too sweet. That there was anything wrong with what she felt. If someone here was wrong, it was him.

Her sweetness didn't make her any less capable or strong. She'd stood up to him without shrinking. She was young, but she was probably less of a work in progress than he was. He'd judged her, based on lies he'd been telling himself. The truth was he could trust her to know her own feelings.

"S'long as ya really want me around. I'm here for you." He knew he should say more, but the words were elusive to him. A few got caught in the back of his throat and he swallowed, feeling woefully inadequate for what she wanted and needed from him.

"I want you here," she untangled her fingers from his, wrapping her arms around his torso and holding onto him tight, so he could feel his heartbeat hitting against her cheek.

"Maybe you gotta go ahead and remind me, sometimes. Make me see sense."

"How do I do that?"

He stroked her hair from her crown down to her shoulder, lingering there for a moment over the strap of her dress, feeling her flushing skin under his palm. "Tell me when I'm doin' wrong. I don't wanna do no harm. Don't wanna overstep neither."

"You're not going to do anything wrong. I'm not worried about that—you shouldn't be either."

"Gotta be," Daryl said without meaning to.

"What do you mean?"

Now he had to explain himself, he swallowed again, looking up into the ceiling of the tent, all illuminated from the lantern light. "'Cause, for instance—look at ya, girl. You come out here in the woods, where I live with wolves, in the middle of the night—wearing _that_, when I'm lit like Christmas. You... trust me."

"Well yeah," said Beth brightly.

"So, I gotta check up on that for your sake; make sure I'm worth trusting."

For a moment she only looked at him, eyes still dark, the smallest of smiles hiding underneath wetted lips. She propped herself up so she was hovering just over his face, placing her hands on either shoulder. She fell into him slowly, giving him plenty of time to wind her hair in his fingers before he placed his hands gently against her cheeks. Her lips pursed against his mouth, soft and sweet. "I should go," she said quietly.

He could only nod, reluctant to acknowledge the truth.

"I wouldn't want to take advantage of you, in your intoxicated state." She picked up her purse and phone from the far corner of the tent and started to climb out, taking the little electric lantern with her so she didn't trip as she stepped through the doorway. The second she was outside, she gave a little gasp of surprise and a shriek.

Immediately, Daryl was on his feet. Heart rising as he scrambled outside, grabbing a hold of her. The lantern light flickered across the jagged, natural furnishings of the camp. He saw a bottle-brush tail disappear into the edge of flora on the far side of the clearing. Relief washed over him, the hand clutching her arm was shaking. He wasn't sure what he'd been thinking, but on reflex he'd been prepared for any kind of threat.

"I thought it was a wolf—but it was just a dog. He crossed right through your camp," said Beth, with a shaking exhale and a little laugh at herself. She leaned into him and lifted the lantern out to the side of them to better see where the beast had gone.

Daryl shook himself, still not fully recovered.

"Alright?" Beth asked.

"Yeah, here—" he took the lantern and turned it off, shoving it back inside the tent and grabbing a flashlight and his crossbow instead. He handed her the light, and slung the bow around his back—once again, doubting he'd need it, but wanting to be safe.

"What… did Rick say anything?" Beth asked as they began their hike to the road. "I mean, about catching us behind the barn." The flashlight didn't illuminate her face enough to see if she'd gone that color he was starting to love so much.

"For a lawman, he seems to be pretty good at minding his own business," Daryl offered with a shrug. "He didn't pretend like he ain't seen nothing—but he didn't pry."

Beth stumbled in the darkness, dropping the flashlight. He felt her hand close on his wrist to steady herself as his other arm caught her about the waist. He could tell from the way she'd started that it had been a perfect accident, but with a quiet laugh she said, "Can we say that was intentional?" sounding a little embarrassed.

With the well-after midnight dark to hide his smirk, Daryl let go of her and stooped down to pick up the fallen flashlight. He handed it back to her with a flick of his wrist, "You wanna hold my hand, all ya gotta do is say so."

She took a hold of his forearm, her thumb stroking, "I wanna hold your hand, Daryl." Beth slid her palm down to his and clasped, giving him a playful smile before she turned back to the forest and raised the flashlight, guiding their path.

It was his turn to be unsteady on his feet. Between the alcohol and the fluttering in his stomach; the warm sensation of her little hand in his, he couldn't keep his head on straight. He was upright and attentive of his surroundings through sheer force of will, and old hunting habits.

At first, he couldn't for the life of him figure out why this undid him almost as much as having her lying half on top of him, nuzzling against his skin the way she had been before. He was only touching her hand, her shaking, little, perfect hand all made of small bones, but with enough strength to feel the smallest pinch of sweet pain, when she pulsed her grip against his. He'd never done this before, he realized and the thought almost made him falter. He prided himself on a rough handshake and he'd been known to lend a hand to help someone to their feet, for instance. But she was the only person who ever just wanted to hold onto him like that, not asking for anything but to be close and connected while they found their way out of the woods together.

Once they made it to the road and her car, she gave him the flashlight back, leaning against the side of her car. "I still think there's no reason you have to be livin' out in the woods," said Beth, but she was wearing a slightly mischievous smile, "But I can see now how there are some advantages to having a secluded place."

"Wasn't my intention," Daryl looked down at their feet. He'd chosen the spot when it was just about him staying away. It had never even crossed his mind that the distance and solitude actually made him more available to her; that thought process would have involved acknowledging that she actually wanted to be around him, which he hadn't considered.

She went back on her heels, putting the toes of her boots on top of his.

"Any way I can see ya tomorrow?"

"Can't avoid it," the side of his mouth twitched into the smallest smirk.

She gave him a smile that made his chest thump, "I _mean_, I wanna make plans to meet," she said blinking those big blue eyes at him slowly.

They were really going to do this, and what was more, for the moment, Daryl didn't feel the least bit conflicted about it. Looking into her face, he would have agreed to anything; been happy to walk right through hell if she asked him to. "…After we finish with the fence, I'll come find ya."

* * *

**Big, fat, juicy thank yous to all who're reading, who've favorited, followed or recommended this fic! Oh, sweet Bethyl feels. I could drown in moonshine y'all.**

**Next chapter should be up quite soon.**

**Illuminated - Hurts**


	21. Good Girl

Walking up to the house, Beth couldn't stop smiling. It hadn't gone exactly as she'd envisioned it. It was so much better. He didn't try and talk her down, didn't do anything to discourage her. It hadn't felt like a negotiation at all. They just talked and touched and the way he kissed her left that permanent grin and a little unsteadiness in where she put her feet. She realized now, how nervous she'd been; she remembered more clearly in retrospect all the jitters that had run through her system. The moment he was lying there with her in the tent, visibly buzzed and slurring his words, it had all vanished. She'd just been happy to be with him again, finally honest.

Had it really only been two weeks? She thought back on the night they met, stunned at how much had changed. She'd been so worried about where they were, the age difference, what it looked like. The moment she'd first held him in a lapel-grab, trying to convince him to take her seriously she'd been swept up. It was an utterly reactionary thing to do. She didn't think about it at all. At the time, she didn't even question _why_ she'd felt so strongly. They'd just met and already the idea of him going off and doing something dangerous, possibly getting hurt or killed was unthinkable. More than that, she'd hated how she could sense that he was willing to take these kinds of risks, precisely because he didn't think it would make a difference to anyone else.

Merle cared. Deep down, Daryl might know that, but his big brother didn't make a habit of expressing himself. When it came to caring about what might happen to him, Daryl was on his own. Why shouldn't he waste his life? What did he have to lose that he'd never really owned in the first place? She could see it written all over his face, and in his intense, guarded eyes. He didn't think anyone cared.

She cared. She cared for him. She'd tried to talk herself around to believing it was something else. That she didn't want him.

_Not the right place. Not the right time. Not the right man._ She'd told herself that and it stuck for all of five minutes. By the time the barricade lifted and she was allowed to leave, she'd dreaded the prospect of not seeing him again.

Two weeks later, it was so far beyond what she might have imagined happening. He'd held her close, hands bruising, inspiring a longing in her that was still reeling her head in circles even now as she tried to return home in a straight line. He'd let her go on, dizzy and humming. Her feelings were still winding and unwinding inside of her as she mentally relived every instant.

Every time her wandering mind tried to draw a comparison to some experience she'd had in the past she had to let it drop. _No. This is different._ But she couldn't define what made it different yet.

He probably didn't even know how deeply she was feeling, already.

Still clumsy, from tired and from her mind far away, she slipped and dropped her purse at the top of the stairs. Maggie's high heels were hanging off one hand, so she used the other one to snatch the purse back up. When she was upright again she faced the doorway, finding her mother standing there in her PJs.

"Hey! You're back," Annette said in an excited hush, "I thought you were gonna stay the night with your sister?"

"I wanted to sleep in my own bed—'sides, I thought I might go on an early ride, before tomorrow starts to get hot." She was still grinning like an idiot and could see her mother's mouth stretching into a smile as well to mirror her.

Annette's eyebrows gradually rose. "Did ya have a fun time?"

"Mm," Beth hugged her mother around the waist.

Her mother chuckled into her hair, "I'll take that as a yes."

"I'm glad I did it," murmured Beth.

* * *

As they walked to the direction of the nearest well, Daryl removed his work-gloves. He'd still managed to get his hands filthy. He picked at a splinter in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. Tony and Dave were talking loudly to one another, as usual, shovels over their shoulders. They'd just finished the fence, finally. Daryl had been working since dawn, while Tony and Dave got to sleep for a few hours in the morning since they'd been on night-watch. They were still groggy and in matching raw moods as a result of the lack of sleep.

In spite of his late night and the ache in his head, Daryl hadn't felt this good in a long time. He'd woken up still able to smell her in his clothes and feel her when he shut his eyes. The guilt was there, especially when Hershel said good morning to him and he found it more difficult than normal to uncurl his tongue and return the greeting, but it wasn't crushing the way it had been.

Did Beth feel it at all? She had to, he decided. But she didn't show it.

"I've gotta get a few more hours of shut-eye before we hit Hatlin's," Tony spoke through a yawn.

"Yeah, sure—you're gonna jerk off in bed 'til I drag your ass out to meet real women," Dave swung the shovel off his shoulder, bouncing it restlessly against the dirt, knocking up little bursts of dust.

The clap of hooves beating the ground pulled Daryl's attention away from the other farmhands. Across the field he could see Beth returning from her ride. The horse brought her nearer to them at a comfortable charge, the noon-day glow of the sun splayed out over her golden hair, as it tumbled out of its ties. The movement of the horse and the way she balanced herself on the saddle perfectly showed off her subtle, tempting curves. Daryl found himself staring at the arch of her back, traveling down to that perfect place where her hips began to widen.

"You oughta come along, Daryl," Tony smacked his arm to get his attention. "Gets a little rough sometimes, you look like you might be useful in a fight," he added.

Dave snorted.

"Nah, thanks," Daryl grumbled, turning his head again as Beth's horse slowed to a trot. The stables were a distance away, but close enough that he could see the sweet, content look on her face as she gracefully dismounted.

"Don't even try to reach the man, he's lost," Tony laughed.

He'd messed up, he realized. He shouldn't have been staring, but then again, it probably wouldn't have made a difference. Neither Dave nor Tony were really thinking about it too hard, they were too busy looking at her as well. In fact they'd been watching her since the moment she galloped into sight.

"Ever wanna just… break the rules?" Dave laughed,

"Or the law?" Tony's dark chuckle rose as Dave shot him a grin with tongue working its way out through his teeth.

Daryl's jaw went taut, his head pounding suddenly more violently. He knew he shouldn't react. He couldn't help what other men thought of her and if he did say anything it'd only make them wonder. They'd been irked enough earlier that morning when he only had monosyllables to divulge about the day before when she'd come after him in the woods and dragged him back to talk to Rick. Yeah, he shouldn't say anything. He wouldn't say anything. "Hey," he snapped. "Best watch your mouth." Shit. He'd said something.

"Farmer's all the way over there," Dave pointed towards the cattle. He had misunderstood. He thought that Daryl was warning them to shut their fat mouths because he cared about their asses getting canned. That was a mistake. He went back to looking at Beth as she started to lead her horse into the stables, her little figure all tense from her ride and gliding on long legs wrapped up in skin-tight jeans.

"Nah, forget about it," Tony seemed to change his mind in an instant. "Too cute."

"Too cute?" Dave scoffed.

"Yeah. Pretty ones don't got any _enthusiasm_," said Tony with a roll of his eyes.

"You'd still do her—"

"Sure I would."

Daryl just needed to leave. There was nothing else to it. He couldn't beat their asses into the dirt, couldn't say anything without giving himself away. He started to veer off, blood boiling; one hand strangled the handle of the shovel he was dragging, while the other was fisted, his nails biting into his palm. He just needed to put a couple of fields, or a few miles or maybe just six feet of soil between them, so he couldn't hear this.

"I wouldn't expect a decent lay, is all. Just a place to dump the load, y'know?"

He wasn't quite out of earshot.

"I'm all for enthusiasm, but a face like hers—I don't care how she feels about it. I'll make up for any—"

Gut impulse might have compelled him to come swinging back at them with the shovel, but he reined it in with a crack of his neck, and instead he did something technically less stupid, though still risky. Turning on his heel, he placed himself between the two of them abruptly, halting their stride with the shovel outstretched in one arm and another hand up against Dave's puffed-out chest. "You gotta stop."

The two men had stopped walking abruptly at his urging, and stood stiff, with matching looks of disbelief on their faces. After a brief pause Dave let out a snort of laughter, trying to ease the tension, but it didn't work. Tony's surprised expression was slowly sliding into a serious glare at Daryl and the shovel.

"Are you serious?" Dave demanded with another scoff.

"Don't talk about her like that."

"Hey, man, relax," Dave held up both hands in submission, taking a step back from Daryl's hand. "Give us a break, we ain't got much else to do around here, you know how it is. What's the harm?"

"She's a good girl," said Daryl firmly.

"That's what _I_ was sayin'," said Tony, "In a manner of speaking," he added.

"In a manner of speaking," Dave echoed him, a peculiar expression on his face as he searched Daryl.

"Y'all better _have_ some manners," grumbled Daryl as he turned and stalked off, picking up the pace to outstrip them, heart still a little revved. He shouldn't have said anything, but he couldn't help it. Hearing Dave and Tony talk about Beth like that was too far over the line. He just didn't have it in him to fake calm. It had been a long time since he'd been so overcome with the desire to break someone's face. The fact that he hadn't hit them actually surprised him more than anything. His hands were shaking. He was itching to do violence.

He drew in a deep lungful as he reached the shed and put his shovel back in place, trying to calm down. More than anything he wanted to wrestle that good feeling back. Dave and Tony had pissed him off so bad that it was fading. He was worried. This returning darkness brought all the old voices back. Telling him he was just like them. He was dirt. A piece of shit. He didn't belong anywhere near her. He shook himself, slapping at his own face. He just needed to see her again. He'd feel better then. She had a way of quieting the shouting in his head.

He was supposed to meet Beth now, but he wanted to try and clean up a little first. After putting that fence into place he'd muddied himself up pretty good, not to mention the heat had drawn tracks of sweat over his whole body.

"Hey, Dixon."

Daryl turned to find Otis in the doorway of the shed, a concerned frown on his face, eyes questioning, "Yeah?"

"Everythin' alright?" Otis took his hat off, wiping a few beads of sweat off his forehead and leaning into the shade. "It looked like you were ready to trade haymakers with Dave and Tony."

Daryl hadn't noticed that Otis was anywhere near them, which meant he'd probably seen the altercation from a distance and hadn't heard anything. "They got big mouths, that's all," grumbled Daryl.

Nodding in agreement, Otis seemed satisfied, "Listen, I know I said that all we needed for today was the fence, but fact of the matter is… it's calving season and you can't always time these things. Would you mind helping out?"

_No. I got plans._ He tried to force it out, but ended up biting his tongue. He could say it, but it would look like a lie—or worse, when Otis noticed him wandering around the farm, seemingly aimless. He'd told Beth he'd come find her. He wanted to see her again, but they were going to have to anticipate these kinds of problems. Some days, seeing her might be all he was allowed, and today it looked like they might have to delay, at least a few hours. "Yeah, no problem."

* * *

Beth wanted to clean up a little before she made herself good and easy-to-find. In the back of her mind, she'd entertained the possibility to taking some food, maybe even making a couple of sandwiches and putting together a picnic for them. She'd worried that her ride might have gone on too long, but she came back just in time to see Daryl and the other farmhands barely finished up with their work.

On her way to the house, her mother met her, something clutched in one hand, which she held up and waved to her with. It was Beth's cellphone.

Instinctively she reached to her pocket, already realizing that she must have left her phone in the house when she went to get her horse. "What're you doing?" Beth raised an eyebrow at her mother.

"This thing has been driving me _nuts_ for the past hour—ringing and squeaking off the hook—'cept I guess they don't have hooks anymore," Annette shrugged with a little pink in her cheeks, she handed the phone over to her daughter and came to a stop, hands on her hips, looking torn between curiosity and impatience.

Beth had two missed calls from Minnie and a text message from Karen.

_Minnie is trying to call you to ask you something and you should say yes. – _Karen.

"Is it a boy?" her mother asked eagerly.

Shaking her head, Beth suppressed a laugh, "It's just the girls."

Her mother's shoulders slumped a little but she flashed her a playful grin when Beth met her eyes.

It wasn't like Minnie to call, she was all for texting. Either something big was going on, or Minnie had finally learned how to get Beth's attention when it wasn't offered freely. She called her back, strolling up to the house and looking sideways at her mother with marked suspicion. Annette had fallen into step with her, apparently planning eavesdrop.

"Hey Minnie."

"Please don't be boring, Beth," Minnie said in a toneless voice. Whatever it was she was going to try and talk Beth into doing she was already anticipating a no. "It's been ages and ages since we've hung out, but ya can totally make up for it this weekend."

"What's up Minnie?"

"Camping. My uncle's cabin. He says we can have it for the whole weekend."

Even before she started making headway with Daryl, this kind of plan wouldn't have appealed much to Beth. She knew what to expect. It wouldn't just be the three of them. There would be a whole group, girls and guys. Someone would bring booze, and complain when it all got drunk the very first night and no one wanted to try and procure (or pay for) more. Someone else would have lied to their parents and be a wreck about it the whole time. Two girls would be after the same guy. The guys would be after everyone. For her friends, it would be a lot of fun, but Beth thought it sounded exhausting. Still, she might have been able to be talked into dealing with it all—she might have let Minnie make her be social and indulge in the drama, a few weeks ago. Now, she had a better reason not to want to go. "I can't leave for the whole weekend."

"Yes you can."

"I really can't. There's too much goin' on. They need my help—maybe I could come up Saturday for a little while. Maybe," she had no intention of making good on that, but thought that it might help Minnie back off.

"Beth. This is getting ridiculous."

The grave tone that Minnie was using pulled a weary sigh from the back of Beth's throat. She was still painfully aware of her mother standing right beside her, listening in, totally unashamed.

"Are we breaking up? Tell me straight." Minnie was laughing, but it was a vicious kind of laugh, the sort of thing that could turn to yelling if left unchecked.

"Look, I can't come, but you know just as well as I do that even if I did, it wouldn't exactly be my kind of thing."

"What is your thing? What do you do?"

"Minnie, I promise we'll do something soon. Please don't be mad."

"I ain't _mad_," said Minnie taking on Beth's same weary tone as she sighed, "It's just that Karen said something that made me panic a little 'cause of how true it is."

"What'd she say?"

"Just that she wouldn't be surprised if you didn't even show up for prom."

Dammit. She'd forgotten about senior prom. "No, I'll be there."

"For real? You ain't gonna just vanish?"

"No, I'll come."

"Find a date and everything?"

"I dunno about that," grumbled Beth, "but I'll go. Save a dance for me."

"You _gotta_ take a date—Karen and I will be there with guys, it'll be pathetic if you're there alone."

"I'll go stag—drift around and dance with everyone, what's wrong with that?"

"It's _sad_. What is up with you, Miss Heartbreaker? First you straight-up reject my poor cousin—"

"He'll live," Beth rolled her eyes.

"And now you're telling me that there isn't a single guy you'd like to escort you to your _senior prom_?"

She was willing to bet that senior prom would be too far for Daryl. They couldn't even be together in public at this point. "Nope. Nobody."

"Icequeen."

"At least I'm a queen," said Beth brightly.

"Come to the cabin. Luke'll be there and you should give him a second chance—or maybe give one of these other poor saps a tryout." Minnie tried one last time, sounding desperate.

"No."

Minnie sighed loudly into the phone.

"I'll let you pick out my dress for prom," this was a _big_ concession, especially considering that Beth and Minnie had vastly different tastes in fashion.

For a few paces there was just silence on the other end of the line, then so quietly that Beth almost didn't hear her Minnie purred, "_Barbie_."

"Yes," said Beth, fighting a smile.

"Okay. I'm satisfied."

"Have fun at the cabin, Minnie—I gotta go help my mom."

After hanging up, Beth flickered her eyes over to Annette sheepishly. "I shouldn't lie, I know—I just don't want her to feel bad."

Her mom's arm slid across Beth's shoulders, gathering her in close. "You aren't lyin'," she said with a knowing grin, "You're psychic. I _do_ need your help."

"Oh, well I—"

"Patricia and I are addressing and stuffing envelopes for the charity auction next month. It'd go a lot faster with three of us."

Looking back over her shoulder, Beth tried to find where Daryl had gotten to. She'd barely seen him on the way back from her ride. He said that he would come find her, but that would be difficult if she was inside the house. Still, she couldn't think of a good excuse in the face of her mother, and Daryl was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it wouldn't take that long, "Alright."

"Good girl."

* * *

Gathering her sweater a little tighter around her shoulders, Beth hurried across the field in the darkness. It was nearly midnight. All day, Beth had tried to wrestle a little free time and privacy away so that she could meet Daryl, but the farm was demanding. After helping Patricia and her mother with the charity auction letters, she had almost escaped—in fact she saw Daryl lingering outside the window, and she nearly managed to sneak off, but ran right into Shawn. Daryl must've gotten spooked and the next thing she knew a torrential rainstorm rolled through, and with it came her father, asking for Daryl's help again with the cows.

Though the storm had died, the grass was still soggy. Miniscule streams of standing water and puddles squished under Beth's boots as she made her way to the far field. Since the whole day they'd been pulled apart, unable to get away like they'd planned, she'd decided to go see him at his camp.

"Hey!" a voice shouted from her left.

Beth started, and turned to see Shawn striding towards her in the darkness, Otis' beanbag gun resting against his shoulder.

"What're you doing?" Shawn gestured the direction she was heading, right towards the woods.

She'd forgotten all about the night-watch, Shawn must be taking a shift. "I'm… a… coming to keep you company!" Her heart sank as she realized she wouldn't be able to go meet Daryl now that her brother had seen her out here.

Pointedly he looked at the treeline again, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh—I got a little lost," she covered her mouth to stifle a nervous giggle, "Forgot where you'd be." She closed the distance between them at a squishy jog, resisting the urge to glance back over her shoulder into the trees.

From the way his eyes squinted at her, even in the darkness she could tell he wasn't sure he ought to buy it, but if he suspected her of trying to slip away, he didn't call her out. "What're you doing awake?" Shawn rubbed at his own blood-shot eyes and suppressed a yawn.

"Can't sleep," she sighed, "Are they making you take watch alone?"

"Not so much making me—as everyone else is _beat_. Dave and Tony took night-watch last night, and still ended up helping out with the fence. I don't want to even estimate how long Daryl worked today—last I saw of him, he was trying to wash cow placenta out of his hair at the well. Otis and Patricia gotta go into town early tomorrow—" Shawn shrugged.

"They coulda asked me," said Beth, biting her lip, it was a little odd of them not to ask her to come stand watch with her brother, they didn't like leaving one person out by themselves all night.

Shawn just shrugged again, "I think mom was half-hoping you might change your mind and go spend some time with your friends."

Beth groaned audibly at that. Her parents hadn't been on her case much, but she could tell that they were still concerned about her more introverted behavior recently. If they were resorting to paring down her chores in hopes that she would go play—then they were definitely more worried than she wanted them to be.

"Ya gotta admit little sister—I used to have to _literally_ beat the boys away," he was exaggerating, but it was true that Shawn had his overprotective tendencies. It used to annoy Beth, especially when she first started dating Jimmy. "…You've gotten so good at pushing people back, that I don't have to expend the effort."

"I'm not _pushing_ people away," said Beth leaning against the new fence. "We're drifting apart. We're different people now."

For a moment Shawn just frowned at her, then slowly nodded.

"It's not even that I don't _like_ my friends anymore. It's just… my interests changed."

"Into what?" Shawn smirked at her.

Horses. Music. An older man. "Maybe we were always different," she finally answered with a tight-lipped smile.

"I _hate_ you getting older," Shawn complained, knocking the beanbag gun against the side of his leg restlessly as he leaned against the fence as well.

"Sorry," Beth laughed.

"Makes me realize I'm supposed to go out and be an adult too," Shawn shook his head, face going pale in the moonlight, as if he were describing some miserable task.

"Any developments on that?" Mentally Beth was still trying to work out some way that she could still slip away from Shawn to go see Daryl, but truthfully, she had been hoping to get the chance to talk to her brother too. "What're you gonna do?"

For a moment it appeared like Shawn might pretend she hadn't said anything. His face was blank, looking off into the treeline.

"I'm not naggin'," Beth softened her tone to little more than a whisper, "It's just that I know it sucks. Not knowing. We don't really care what you do, so long as you're happy."

Shawn took a deep breath, eyes still far past her, "Yeah. I think I know now," he said tonelessly. It didn't sound like a revelation or a triumph. It sounded like defeat. "I'm going back. I already emailed the powers that be and it looks like I can return and resume with a little bit of groveling and extra work," he tried to force a smile.

"You don't sound… happy about that?" she lowered her eyebrows.

He opened his mouth to reply but stopped suddenly, raising the barrel of the bean-bag gun on the treeline.

Whirling around, Beth peered into the darkness. Something was shifting in the shadows, something large. It could be a wolf or— "Shawn, maybe it's just a raccoon," Beth reached out to lower the barrel of the gun.

"Too big," Shawn shook his head, jerking the gun out of her reach he took aim again, teeth grinding, finger a little shaky on the trigger.

The shape in the trees was drawing near. She could see Shawn tensing, letting out a slow stream of breath between his lips.

"Wait!" she shouted just as he squeezed the trigger.

With a loud bang and a thump the bean-bag hit its target. A wild shout cut itself off.

"DARYL?!" Beth yelled and broke into a sprint towards the treeline.

"Daryl?" Shawn echoed her, incredulous.

Sure enough, she found Daryl just climbing to his feet on the other side of the underbrush. Clutched in one hand was the bean-bag, he must have found it and snatched it up from the ground after it struck him. She grabbed a hold of his arm, "Are you okay?!"

"Yeah, fine," he mumbled, still dusting himself off haphazardly, with the same hand holding onto the bean-bag.

"Daryl—what are you doin' out—man, I'm so sorry, I can't believe—" Shawn reached them, holding out his arms apologetically, the bean-bag gun discarded back by the fence.

"Where'd he hit you?" Beth was looking him over but she couldn't see any bruising. The bean-bag must have struck him in the body.

"Chest—its fine," Daryl grumbled.

"Shawn, lemme have your flashlight," Beth held out a hand expectantly towards her brother.

Still looking pained and penitent, Shawn obeyed.

"Just lemme see," said Beth as Daryl started to protest. She stared him down, shining the light between them until he conceded, looking away while his fingers undid enough buttons so that she could shine the light on his right pectoral. A swollen, bruised patch of flesh was visible under the glare of the flashlight. "Your ribs?"

"Fine," said Daryl gruffly, stepping away from her and out of the glow.

She wasn't so sure she believed him, "C'mon," she beckoned for him to follow her, handing the flashlight back to Shawn as she passed him.

"Where we goin'?" Daryl looked nervously between her and her brother.

"We've got liniments, works great on bruises." She gestured towards the stables.

"Equine liniments?" Shawn made a face, "He ain't a horse, Beth."

"He ain't a wolf either, _Shawn._" Beth rolled her eyes at her brother, took Daryl by the wrist and started to lead him away.

"Wait—house rules," Shawn said at a half-shout as they moved away from him, "I gotta come."

"Since when are you dad, or Otis?" Beth whirled back around, "Relax, it's _Daryl_." She added, heart speeding up a little in her chest. The family liked him, but she wasn't sure yet, how far Shawn would let her push.

"Well—yeah," said Shawn awkwardly, but he looked a little red and like he was still contemplating a counterargument for why she couldn't go off on her own with Daryl to the stables.

"You gotta stay here," Beth anticipated him, pointing to the bean-bag gun, "Someone's gonna have to keep watch and I've never fired anything in my life. If a wolf does come along and I'm the one standing by the fence with that thing, I'll just scream and accidentally shoot myself in the foot."

"Fine," Shawn grumbled, "Daryl—I'm real sorry."

"C'mon," said Beth again, breathing a little easier as she and Daryl began to move away from the night-watch post and towards the stables. It was dark enough that she couldn't see him too well, but as soon as Shawn was a good ways away from them, his hand slid down over hers and he gripped it tight for a moment, almost painfully tight, but she just squeezed back.

"Ya think he'll forget about askin' me again what I was doing out there?" Daryl glanced back over his shoulder.

"Hopefully," she stopped walking a moment. They were out of sight and earshot now, so she felt safe enough to rise up on her tip-toes and kiss him, quickly and sweetly on the corner of his lips. She felt a flutter in her chest as he responded ever so slightly, a little tension running over the surface of his skin as he leaned into her. "I missed you today," she breathed.

"Prob'ly shoulda realized it wouldn't be simple," Daryl took a step back, rubbing at his flushed neck, looking at his feet. "Sorry. Didn't get away."

"It's okay. I got taken hostage too." Beth knew it couldn't be helped, it was just the situation that they were in. "What _were_ you doing out there?" but she had a thought, a little shiver rush through her as she bit down on her lower lip.

"I was uh… thinkin' of comin' to the house. Toss rocks up at your window or somethin' _classy_ like that," he rolled his eyes, the color rising as his eyes got caught on her mouth.

She fought a grin, "I was comin' to find _you_." She rose up on her toes again, but he beat her to the kiss this time, taking her by surprise. He started eager, more so than she'd been prepared for. As her eyes dipped closed, she became suddenly hyper-aware of his body against hers, where her hips were tilting into him, one hand pressed more firmly into the side of her jaw. His forearm rubbing into her waist as he pulled her closer, making her lose her breath. Everywhere that bare skin made contact she felt a slow, searing heat. His lips massaged her gently and she was struck with the suddenly thought that he was still holding back, still trying to be careful with her. There was control in him, and meanwhile, hers crumbled gradually, with each touch. Her hands were trapped between them. She twisted her wrists around, grabbing onto the front of his shirt and pulling them closer together.

* * *

**You guys. I love you guys. Thank you so much to everyone who has commented to let me know what they think, who's favorited or followed or who has recommended the story! Also, a shout-out to tumblr-homies. There's so much bethyl-love on tumblr, it's a beautiful, beautiful thing!  
**

**Nightcall - London Grammar (I love the original version of this song, it is the definition of groovy. But this cover is pretty freakin' gorgeous too and the newest addition to my Bethyl playlist)**


	22. Bad Boy

**Two items of business! Item uno, retcon - For the sake of probability/realism the pack of wolves is now a pack of feral dogs, I'm going to go back and make the change to earlier sections, but probably won't be able to right away. In any case, from here on out they'll be referred to as a pack of dogs, rather than wolves. So there's no confusion. Item dos, wanderlust - I'm doing a little bit of rambling before I head back to school. So for the next two weeks, my internet access is... not ideal. So, longer times between the next few updates, probably. I'll still try to reply to any questions/concerns in reviews or pms, but there might be a distinctive lag in my response time.**

**Also, an item of love. **

**Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's following, favorited or recommending this story! And thanks to you rockstars who leave feedback. I just adore you guys:)**

* * *

As kids, the Dixon brothers occasionally found themselves dragged to church by a grandparent, before one by one they all went to heaven. Or so church said. Daryl rarely took the time to contemplate God. Merle always seemed more interested in that kind of stuff than he was, but his big brother went out of his way to hide the inclination.

For the last few weeks, Daryl had been a church-goer again. The Greene family was consistent in their attendance and worship. Sunday was church day. Chores got pared down to the bare minimum for the care and comfort of the animals. Larger projects would just have to wait until Monday, unless it was an emergency. Each week, the farmer and his family would occupy their usual spot, too far towards the pulpit for Daryl's comfort. Annette and Hershel sat next to each other, taking advantage of the close proximity and folding their hands together. Beth was right beside them, with her brother on the other side when he was around, but he'd returned to medical school at the urging of his parents, some weeks before.

Daryl took a place in the back of the chapel, where he could come late without being noticed, and slip out early before anyone had the chance to make the mistake of trying to talk to him.

Not that he was worried about that. He'd long ago cultivated the kind of glower that warned people to keep their distance. The most they'd ever do was notice the redneck, or occasionally, have a good disapproving stare at his dirty, white-trash appearance and ragged work-clothes.

The first time he'd shown up, it was the day after he'd found Penny. It the back of his mind he'd sort of felt like maybe going to church was the thing to do after something good like that happened. After a little girl got to leave the cold and rain to go home with a dad who loved her. After Hershel called him a godsend.

He'd returned every week since, on account of Beth's voice.

Beth Greene had a voice.

It was sweet and clear, more powerful than he would have expected from such a small woman. He could always pick her out from the other singers in the congregation. Once he heard her, it was like everyone else dropped away. Everything felt slower, calmer. She stopped time with a few notes. He loved listening to Beth sing.

After church he'd helped Otis move some supplies out of the barn and into a shed that was better protected from the heat. It was a light, simple chore that had none-the-less qualified as an emergency, with the unexpectedly hot weekend they were having.

He wasn't thinking about the heat, or about getting out of it to enjoy the shade. He basked for a moment, unconcerned with whether or not he was truly comfortable. He felt the heat and the sweat made its way down his spine, while he coaxed the old dog that typically hung out around the barn to come closer. Daryl had been at the Greene family farm for nearly a month and they still hadn't introduced one another.

"C'mere mut," grumbled Daryl, inching a couple of rough fingers out towards the mangy animal, beckoning it closer. The dog's tongue lulled out of its mouth as it sauntered close enough for Daryl to grab a hold of. It's back dipped with age, its big paws and gnarly nails scrapped along the dusty ground.

The dog had all its tags, indicating shots and care and a name to go with the address of the farm. The tag said _Mark Greene._

"Mark?" he repeated in a mutter.

"It's short for On-Your-Mark," Hershel's voice explained.

Daryl hadn't noticed him until he spoke, but from the looks of it, the farmer had just turned the corner around the side of the barn. He was still in his Sunday Clothes, slightly more spiffed-up than when he was working. It was a different kind of Hershel, especially since Daryl was more used to seeing him covered in animal gunk. The man was very hands-on when it came to the medical needs of his flocks and herds. Daryl turned back to the dog, smoothing out the wiry mustachio-hairs, dangling off his fanged mouth and patting Mark on his old head. "Don't look like much of a racin' hound to me," he observed.

"If he ever was, he's not anymore, that's for certain," as Hershel approached the two of them. The dog turned away from Daryl, tail a little more energetic as it went to greet its true master. "My Bethy named him. I never did ask where she got the idea. He was a stray. She and her sister found him years ago when they were out on a ride together. They got him to follow them home. From the looks of him, he'd had a rough life up until he settled here." Hershel scratched at the dog's neck, its tongue dipped even lower from its jaws in appreciation before it started to amble away, probably searching for some shade.

"The other dogs rescues too?" Daryl had wondered as much. They Greene farm didn't have too many dogs running around—not like some farms he'd worked at that had a whole pack, but what was strange about their collection was that none of them were particularly typically farm-dogs. They had an odd assortment of breeds, and a lot of them were older and passive, not particularly useful, even for security.

"Yes they are," Hershel nodded, "though Mark is the only stray we've got—the others came from shelters…" the farmer put his hands in his pockets, looking out over his land with a pensive smile, tinged with a drop of real pain. "Growing up here, all I wanted to do was get away. In the end, it turned out to be the exact right place for me. Maybe, in the back of my mind I wanted to let it be a place of healing."

Even if he'd known how to respond to what Hershel was saying, Daryl couldn't have untied his tongue to do it. Part of him wanted to pretend like they were just talking about dogs, at least until Hershel wasn't around to be looking at him anymore. He didn't much like people trying to figure him out. He'd probably never get used to it.

Even over the last few weeks as he'd been confronted almost daily with Beth's big, blue eyes, totally free of judgment and her sweet voice asking him all kinds of questions about his life, where he'd been, what he'd done, how he'd felt about it. Things no one had ever seemed to want to know before. He resisted, and she let him, for now, but he could feel that it was a temporary strategy. If she kept this up, it wouldn't be long before she stripped him bare and saw him as the broken soul that he was.

Hershel, at least, was less direct. He didn't require a lot of feedback, probably, he was well-aware of his subject's inability to provide much in the way of conversation. Still, he watched him, made him squirm a little. Mostly, Daryl did that to himself. The farmer trusted him, seemed to even maybe kind of like him some days, but Daryl knew full well that this would change if he ever knew about what was going on between his farmhand and his daughter.

"The fact is, Daryl… we're winding down for a little while. The pack is still around, thanks to careless neighbors," he let out a ragged sigh at that. In the previous weeks, two other farms nearby had lost animals. One had a couple of chickens that wandered off into the woods, only to be eaten, and at the other farm, the pack had come right onto the property while the man on watch slept and taken a goat. "So we'll need to keep up nightwatch for a bit, but for a little while, there won't be much extra to be done. All the same, there's always some work. How would you feel about sticking around indefinitely?"

He hadn't dared to hope for this. When forced to envision the future he figured that once the work at the farm was done, he'd stay close by, to be with Beth or else he'd be dead, because by then Hershel would have figured out what was going on and shot him with something a little more painful and permanently damaging than a bean-bag gun. That he'd be invited to stick around wasn't even a thought. No one stuck around. Out of all the other farmhands, only Otis had been there longer than a few months, and only he was counting on sticking around for longer than that. Dave and Tony were already talking about leaving—cutting out earlier than they'd indicated to the farmer even. Nightwatch was taking a toll on their recreation. The other farmhands, Len and Lou, Daryl didn't know as well, but they seemed anxious to cut out soon too.

Uncomfortable and sheepish, Daryl realized that after Hershel's question he'd just been staring at the ground between them, shoulders folded inwards, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Uh… yeah," he coughed, nodding. Merle would've probably said something a little more gracious, even if it wasn't sincere, something like _'I'd very much like that, thank ye,'_ but Daryl could barely manage a word and a half of affirmation. He swallowed, nodding more vigorously when he noticed Hershel still watching him with a small smile on his face.

"Good," said Hershel, "We'll keep ya around then."

* * *

Little things about the girl turned his head. It wasn't so bad at first, but every day he felt it getting worse. Today, he'd spent a good ten minutes staring, wordless and immersed in the thought that she truly didn't care about getting her nice Sunday dress all mussed. She lay, exactly where she'd first settled in, when she found him in one of their usual spots out in the wood. Bare legs and the skirt of the blue dress were on the dirt, while her shoulders and her head relaxed against his stomach, a pile of blonde tresses spilled into his lap, one hand found his and she laced their fingers together while the other came to rest on her own stomach, drawing a tempting line straight up the middle towards her breastbone.

"I caught ya lurkin' back there," said Beth.

"In the church?" he hadn't mentioned that he was going, neither had he given much thought to whether or not she ever noticed him in the back. He was purposefully trying _not_ to be seen, it was just a good vantage point for watching.

"Yeah. You oughta come sit with us."

"Mm, nah," muttered Daryl, looking at their hands laced together. There was no better demonstration of how different they were than that sight of their fingers tucked in close, every other one either belonging to an angel or a walking disaster. Everything about her was soft, nimble, her touch was slow and sensual. In contrast, he couldn't make himself anything other than rough, hard, beat-all-to-hell more times than he cared to think about. His hands were scarred and big, the knuckles and joints seemed permanently swollen from all the work he'd put them through and he had some tough calluses, in all the usual places, but also along his fingers too.

Beth found these with her soft fingertips and gently traced back and forth over the rough skin. It was his own doing, stubbornness at not wanting to deal with the whole rig that usually came with loading his crossbow. It meant that he had to load it by hand every time; the string left its marks.

"Why not?" Beth asked quietly, her tone mild and patient; she must already think she knew his reason, but she wanted to hear him say it. The more time they spent together, the easier it was to read her.

"You know why."

"…Everyone likes you Daryl." She never said anything out-loud to indicate it, but Daryl knew full well that she was sharp enough to know better. She worked hard to hide it, but he could see that she worried too; she _did_ feel the guilt.

On a tree across from them, a squirrel appeared; fluffy tail ridiculous out behind it. It scurried part-way up and then paused. If it had kept going, it might have lived, but the hesitation gave Daryl just enough time to pluck his hunting knife from its sheath, take aim and toss.

Beth jumped when she felt his body tense up, his other hand was still twisted through hers, but she let go as she sat up, looking at the dead squirrel with the knife jutting out of its neck. "Did you for real just kill that squirrel?!"

"I for real just got my Sunday dinner," Daryl got to his feet and went to retrieve his kill, yanking the knife free from the trunk.

When he turned, Beth was standing closer than expected, just over his shoulder, head cocked slightly to the side as she watched him, no commentary.

"Hey, gotta eat," he offered in his defense.

"That was crazy—can you show me how?" she reached for his knife slowly, giving him plenty of time to put it away if he wanted, but he let her little hand close around his, still wrapped over the handle and gently he traded places with her, so that she was gripping the hilt while he let his fingers travel down her wrist, feeling her pulse quicken underneath his ghosting fingers. He set the squirrel aside and took his place behind her, one hand wrapped around her hip bone to help guide her a few steps backwards.

"Alright—keep your eyes fixed on that mark in the trunk that I left," he advised, double-checking that the distance wasn't too far to make it overly difficult for her first attempt.

"Am I holding it right?" she had good instincts, he barely had to adjust her hand against the hilt, but he took his time, enjoying the feel of holding her like this, her hair was right up against his face, smelling like her and getting caught in his stubble. He held her hip a little tighter against himself and her back arched slightly as she turned, the corner of a grin barely visible to him from over her shoulder. He breathed out slowly, all but ready to abandon this impromptu lesson entirely.

"Follow-through with your wrist and give it a little power as you slid your thumb away. This close, you don't gotta to put a spin on it. Just like this," he guided her arm forward once so she might get an idea of the kind of movement he'd become comfortable with, and the point of release.

"Like this?"

"Yeah. Go on," he urged, watching her with one eye while he leaned into her hair, his mouth finding her ear to gently nip and lick.

"Can't concentrate," she giggled.

"Hum," he pulled back an inch.

She took in a shallow breath that heaved her chest out beautifully. On the exhale she let her arm fly and released the knife. It stuck right over the mark he'd made when he killed the squirrel, but she didn't know how to manipulate the weight yet, so it had turned. The blade didn't stick but clattered to the ground at the base of the trunk.

"Aim's better than decent," Daryl told her, ducking around her to retrieve the knife form the ground.

"I think I can do it this time," she reached out eagerly to take the knife from him; confidence and determination wild in her bright face and soft eyes. She took aim and let the blade fly—this time it lodged into the trunk, though she was off the mark by a few inches. He leaned back against another tree, watching her as she continued with her attempts.

When Beth was carefree and smiling, it was easier to forget everything that was wrong with them. Wrong with _him._ She didn't like hiding from her family, but she knew as well as Daryl did that it was still necessary.

He wished he could shoulder it all, claim responsibility for when something inevitably went horribly wrong. She didn't deserve to get hurt because of him. Any time his mind started to veer in that direction, every time he started to wonder what was really best, what he should do to protect her, it was like she could sense it. She had a way of turning these darker moments around. _"Daryl, I'm happy when I'm with you."_ And he knew he needed to see her again. Every day. Some part of him said this was selfish, to want to keep her when he knew it wasn't the right thing to do.

The truth was, he'd never felt this way with a person before. He didn't just feel happy, he felt peaceful and strong and other things that he wasn't accustomed to. All that bad stuff that had made up his life was still there, still heavy. It had definitely happened, but it didn't matter as much. He didn't care about it, not like he cared about her. As with other silent moments, Daryl had trouble constructing words and sometimes even coherent thoughts about everything that he felt, so usually, when Beth did her part to try and soothe his worried soul, he didn't respond in kind.

Instead, he took a hold of whatever part of her taunted him most in the moment, nuzzled into her neck, kneaded his coarse, selfish hands against her. He messed up her hair and got a deep, life-giving taste of her, did everything he could to make sure she rubbed off on him. He wanted her raw scent to be a part of him, wanted to carry her with him even when they had to go their separate ways.

If he'd been the kind of man who asked questions, who tried to pry into her the way that she did with him, then he might have worked up the guts to ask what precisely she was getting out of this. As much as it shook him to think it, he was slowly starting to acknowledge, deep down that some part of him _needed_ her, or felt like it did. She was feeding this animal in him. Without her, he would still be around, still be walking, but this thing inside of him would starve.

He wanted to keep it alive.

Beth, on the other hand, could hardly need someone like him. In fact there was a decent argument to be made for why she'd be better off alone. But she didn't want that. For whatever reason, she wanted to be with him.

It was the best piece of evidence he had for her being human after-all and not actually some angel, or a dream he'd wake up from one of these days. She wasn't perfect. She was a real human girl who made mistakes and lived to regret them like everyone else. Daryl Dixon was under no illusions; he knew he was a mistake.

"Close enough!" Beth raised her arms, looking like a triumphant gymnast for a split second before she collapsed inwards, laughing.

On round about her tenth try, the blade had finally stuck right, butted up against his mark.

"Got ya some _skills_, Greene," Daryl fought a grin as he went to retrieve his knife.

* * *

They were falling into a routine and Beth couldn't have been happier about it, except if the routine involved less sneaking around and more of her family's whole-hearted blessing. She squeezed his hand extra-tight as he walked her back in the direction of the farm, running her thumb over his pulse and around to the back of his wrist as they moved together through the trees, enjoying the feel of him and watching him hike beside her, every muscle tense, gaze a little distant, the way he often looked in the woods; even when it was just the two of them, meeting for a picnic or a card-game or sometimes just to be together, he was always half in hunting mode. If things were different, then he could have come home with her for dinner, but the squirrel in his belt was what he planned to prepare for himself, and her mother had made chicken pot pies for the family.

"Tomorrow the barn should be clear—I could bring that book?" she suggested. They'd gotten into a discussion about crime novels the other day that somehow ended with Beth deciding she needed to read one out-loud to Daryl.

"I'll be there," said Daryl, "Unless… ya know," he shrugged.

"Right," Beth grimaced, as often as not, something kept them from being able to keep their dates. She knew what to expect now. More often than not, she had to kiss him first, but once she touched her lips to his, he would respond with an energy that left her with a humming, heady feeling; it made it difficult to concentrate on life and other obligations even when she was away from him.

Sure enough, he was done with words for now, it seemed.

They'd only ever kissed. And they hadn't even discussed going beyond that yet. In previous relationships with boys, she'd never wanted more. Just like in so many other respects, Daryl was a different story.

They were going slow, and she knew it was best. So far, she hadn't even felt compelled to broach the subject. All the same, she did feel that he held back, less and less every time he touched her, but he was always prepared to back off, to pull away and even walk away and she let him, trusting him to understand how far was too far.

Beth, on the other hand, wasn't so sure she was able to be quite so disciplined. She hung on too long, dug her nails in too deep, couldn't quite hold back the little gasps that he drew out of her.

It was lucky that he was in control.

At the edge of the woods, he brushed some of the dirt off her skirt, hand lingering a moment right over her thigh. He'd left a bruise there yesterday when he'd dragged his thumb back and forth over the same spot for a while. He was preparing to back away and leave her to walk the rest of the way home on her own, but she wasn't quite ready for that. She rose up on her toes and pressed her lips against his mouth, then his jaw.

"Bye," she could feel that sappy, stupid look on her face and so she folded her lips into her mouth, watching him as he sank back into the trees. She didn't wait longer than a few more heartbeats before she let out a slow breath and then turned and started heading back to the farm, doing what she could to dust off and get any twigs or leaves out of her hair.

She marched along, through the field, oblivious for a good twenty seconds that there was anything wrong. The day that had been so mercilessly hot earlier was starting to cool down to pleasant as evening approached. She felt him near before she heard or saw anything, the wind of someone coming up quickly behind her, and the slight vibration in the ground. She started as Dave caught up to her side, he must have approached at a run.

"Well, hey there, farmer's daughter," he said brightly.

Nearly, she stumbled, purely from surprise to find him suddenly so close to her. All it took was one second looking at his smug, gratified smirk and she knew without a doubt that he'd seen them at the edge of the woods; he'd seen her and Daryl wrapped together.

"Dave—" she tried to think of something that might make this better, but her mind was drawing a blank. She _knew_ he'd seen.

His expression darkened and he looked at her with mock disapproval as he cleared his throat and said, "Now, I know that you know that you can't go saying something like '_I ain't s'posed t' be alone with ya'_ and have it not look like a whole pile of hypocritical shit, right?" he'd adopted a biting imitation of her accent, but his tone never got light, he was warning her already.

"What do you want, Dave?" there was nothing to do but skip right to where she _knew_ this would end up. He'd seen them and instead of denying it, she'd better just deal with it. "You gonna tell my dad, or what?"

"Or what, girl, or what," his eyes slid down to her legs where earth was still dotted her pale skin, gradually they dragged up her body. She'd never felt so utterly exposed with a single look before in her life, not even when Merle was leering at her, openly trying to make her squirm.

"I'm not ashamed," once his eyes had made their way back to her face she stared him down, unblinking.

"Then why are you worried about daddy knowin'?" Dave raised a cocky eyebrow at her, arms folding over his chest.

He actually had her there, at least to some degree, but she didn't look away. "If you ain't gonna say anythin' to him, great. Thank you."

"No problem, my pleasure," he said quickly.

"I'm going now. See you around."

He caught her by the arm as she tried to leave. "Whoa, whoa," he chuckled, his grip tighter than it needed to be, so that her first attempt to tear her arm away from him didn't get her anywhere.

She twisted free, "What?" she demanded.

"Look, I'm on my way out. There's _no reason_ for you to worry about me saying anything… unless of course, I change my mind."

A growling rage was working its way to the surface, but Beth held it back. More than anything, she was still afraid. She was scared he'd tell her parents what he'd seen and she was scared that Daryl would have to leave, and unfortunately (her heart sank, thinking of it) she wasn't entirely sure that he wouldn't just accept that and slip away, never making an effort to see her again. But, in the moment, with Dave's dark, unabashed eyes boring into her she was more afraid than anything that she already had some idea of what this man was driving at with his strange power-play.

"I'm not usually so _fickle_, not with my friends, at least, but girl, there's one sure way you could convince me to keep my mouth shut."

She didn't want to ask, and was pretty certain she wasn't even capable of doing so. It felt like something slimy was lodged in her throat.

Dave managed to look her unveiled hatred right in the eye and laugh, "If that dirty hick is good enough for you, why not a slob like me?"

* * *

**dundundun.**

**A Dustland Fairytale - The Killers**


	23. Blackmail

**THE WIFI GODS HAVE SMILED UPON ME!**

**Heya! Thank you so very hella much everybody who's following, favorited or recommending this fic to pals. I so appreciate all your kind words and feedback, it's provided a lot of motivation to get me this far. *hug* *sloth hug* *extra squeeze* **

* * *

_"I've talked to enough local girls to get a feel for this place."_

He wouldn't make her cry.

_"…You've gotta be bored out of your mind, sweetheart. I dig. I could teach you a thing or two. You and I should have some fun together, what do you say?"_

She only stood there listening to this because her feet were rooted to the ground. Her knees shook the first couple of times she tried to bolt.

_"We all need a little excitement to get us through the drudgery…"_

He reached out to catch her by the hip. The second he actually touched her, something snapped and the next thing she knew, she managed to get away.

Receiving Dave's unsavory proposition left Beth stunned and sickened for the whole of that night and the next day. She hadn't even managed to make her outrage known or to even respond to him properly. She didn't know how to react. In her mind, sometimes she imagined the scene like she'd marched off, head held high, not needing to dignify him with a single word, but other times, she was pretty sure that she shrank and dashed as quickly as she could back to her house, tears in her eyes.

In any case, Dave didn't seem the least bit concerned that she might tell anyone what he'd said to her. He felt like he had the upper-hand. _"Pretty girl like you shouldn't hang on to the goods so tight. A shame not to share what you got."_

She didn't know what was going to happen if she told Daryl. Probably something bad.

But she couldn't see herself _not_ telling Daryl. They'd become so close over the last few weeks. All he'd have to do was take one look at her and he'd know something was wrong. She'd have to tell him, next time she saw him and go from there.

Daryl, at least, could keep a secret. But if she told anyone else, trying to get Dave in trouble, it would do more than rock the boat, it would run it aground. This was the kind of thing that always caused more drama than anyone wanted. The whole debate would turn into a he-said, she-said; it would be messy, embarrassing and any way it went, her parents would know about Daryl. Dave knew that. He knew that she knew it. She had every reason to keep her mouth shut.

Both of them had something on the other that would get both of them in trouble, if either of them said anything.

It was during Mr. Blake's lecture in history the next day that she realized that Dave was counting on exactly this stand-off to get his way. Her stomach heaved, though it was empty.

"You okay?" Minnie whispered to Beth.

Mr. Blake was distracted with a long, rambling question from someone on the front row.

"Yeah, why?" Beth lied in undertone.

"You are ridiculously white." Minnie's eyebrows disappeared under her new bangs. Her pink-glossed mouth dropped into a frown. "Like, if ya toppled outta your desk right now and lay still on the ground, I'd just figure you were dead."

In spite of everything, Beth managed a genuine, tension relieving laugh at Minnie's deadpan tone.

Mr. Blake raised one eyebrow in their direction as the whole class went quiet.

"Sorry," the girls apologized in matching murmurs.

Minnie didn't try talking to her again for the rest of class. But in the hallway Beth found herself cornered.

"Okay—there's clearly something wrong. Is it boy related—what am I sayin'. 'Course it is. Who?"

With her defenses in shreds and too weary to properly deny it, Beth could only roll her eyes in exasperation, which apparently didn't throw Minnie off at all. As she regarded her friend again it was to see her with her eyes growing wider and her jaw gradually dipping down to her chest. "Holy damn. It _is_ a guy?"

"The guy ain't the problem," Beth relented, speaking mostly between her teeth. Even so she was shocked at the sudden relief she felt. She hadn't exactly come clean, but she felt better to divulge even the tiniest bit. She hadn't realized how much it had all been weighing on her over the past weeks. Or maybe she'd been too swept up to care.

"_Who_?" Minnie demanded again.

"I don't wanna get into all that—like I said, he's not the problem."

"But _who_ is it?!" Minnie was scanning the hallway, as if hoping there would be a beacon above the correct answer as he walked by. "Does he know?"

Once again, Beth felt a little of the tension lift as Minnie's wide-eyed question had her recalling some of their more intimate moments. "Yeah. Pretty sure he knows."

Minnie let out a barely audible pitch, like a far-away scream.

"I really can't talk about this—look, I feel sick, I think I might skip my next class and go lie down—but I'll see you later?"

"No fair," Minnie was shaking her head, eyes pleading, "You know I've gotta give an oral report in English, I _can't_ skip with you! The one time I can't!" She stomped her foot.

"I'll talk to you later."

"_Talk_ is exactly what I want!" Minnie yelled at Beth's retreating back.

The momentary lightness that Minnie made her feel faded with every step that she moved away from her friend, until she was stuck with her worries redoubled and demanding. Beth did end up spending the next hour in the library, hiding at the back with her arm over her eyes to block out the light, but she couldn't sleep and she couldn't cut any of the rest of her classes for the day without paying for it later. She returned to her regular schedule, stomach twisted up, still gnawing on the inside of her cheek and trying to work out what she should do to fix this.

After school, she bolted before Minnie or anyone who might be on her orders could try and detain her. She'd made a decision, and though she wasn't sure it was the smartest thing to do, it was probably her only real option. She got home to a busy, distracted house and was able to put her messenger bag away in her bedroom and sneak back out to the barn without anyone saying more than a few words of greeting to her.

The barn was empty when she climbed up into the loft. She already had a blanket and a deck of cards stashed there from an earlier rendezvous with Daryl. She wrapped up in the blanket and lay down, at this point, well used to having to wait for him. Her restless night finally caught up with her and she drifted off into a stiff, forceful sleep, where her mind and her body stayed all too aware of her surroundings.

However, she wasn't aware enough to know when someone else came into the hayloft with her, it was only when heavy boots stopped right beside her head and a loud whistle sounded that she snapped awake.

Somehow, immediately, even before her eyes were all the way open, she knew that it wasn't Daryl.

"Now—this is just a shot in the dark…" said Dave, strolling around the side of Beth as she started to rise up. He kicked little tuffs of straw out of his way as he walked, "I think I should get a prize if I'm right, what doya say, sweetheart?" he grinned at her, "But um… I bet that Daryl was supposed to meet you up here, wasn't he?"

Still groggy and feeling like she could have slept for a couple of days undiscovered in the hayloft, Beth just watched him a moment, knuckles white as she gripped the blanket that had tumbled off of her when she sat up.

"Hershel needed help with a heifer, so your guy's not coming. Luckily, there's an understudy." He held out his arms to indicate himself.

"Yeah. It's good you're here," Beth got to her feet, "I wanted to talk to you."

He must have been able to tell from her tone that she had something hostile planned because his reply was a sarcastic, "Well. Don't I feel special."

"I'm gonna tell my dad about me and Daryl. Then I'm gonna tell him what you said." With that, she made her way to the ladder.

"What?" Dave laughed, "Wait a sec, sweetie. If you think I'm buying this bluff—"

"Calling my bluff are you?" Beth's temper flared, she paused partway down the ladder and looked up at Dave where he stood, eyebrows drawn together and arms crossed, the toes of his work-boots sticking out over the edge of the loft. "It _is_ a bluff, in that if you got the hell off the farm right now I wouldn't say anything, that's true." She let her words hang for a moment as she finished her descent down to the ground and started towards the entrance of the barn.

"You sincerely think I'm buying this, 'leave or _else_' shtick, girlie? Kinda of an overreaction, don't you think," he let out a short laugh again, still able to hide any nerves. She wasn't making him squirm yet.

"No—It isn't an overreaction, it's just what's gonna happen," she stopped and turned around to face him again, hands slapping her thighs as they came down hard. "Any way this goes, I probably end up doin' something that I don't wanna do, but on the list of things that I don't want, I'd rather tell my dad _myself_ than have it come from you… and letting you ever touch me… well, that's _way_ on the far end with everythin' else that's never gonna happen."

To her irritation, Dave's face split into a grin, he tried to wrestle it back but couldn't quite manage, "Alright, alright—I get that you're mad. Would it help if I apologized?"

"I don't really see how."

"Well, I'm sorry—okay?" he held up his hands again, this time in a way that actually made him look somewhat submissive. "Chalk it up to my being a little rusty at this kind of thing."

"Rusty?" she balked, "At what? Blackmail?"

He rolled his eyes, "So, I'm not all that charming?" he shrugged, "I wanted you and I did something about it. A woman should appreciate that kind of… attention. And it's hardly blackmail, sweetie. There you go overreaction again."

"Well—I'm an amateur at blackmail, but I'll give it another go since I don't think you understood me the first time; _leave_ the farm now, or I will tell my father everything you said. There's no way this ends without you leavin' anyway, so _get_."

The humor was rapidly leaving Dave's dark eyes. He took a few steps closer, arms still tense across his chest as his neck throbbed a little. "Fine. It's like that? Excuse me. I didn't realize what a conceited little cooze you were." He snorted and for a moment it looked like he would take his leave with that.

Beth was more than willing to let him have the last word. Her heart was still humming in her chest. He was leaving. He'd probably try and tell her father about Daryl first—but they were going to have to face the music, sooner or later. It would have happened anyway. She wished that they could have done it on their own terms. She'd really thought that they might be getting close to a place where everyone would be alright with their relationship, but they weren't there yet... this was going to be messy.

Before he could leave the barn, he turned back around, "One more thing, before I split. Don't you look at me like I'm dirt—I'm the same as him. Guys like Daryl and guys like me—we're cut from the same cloth, and if you think otherwise, you're kidding yourself. You're just a piece of ass to a guy like that. Loyalty wasted."

Hot anger burned behind her eyes, she forgot about letting him have the last word, too offended on behalf of Daryl, "You don't know him at all."

"Sure I do," Dave bit back at her, "I know him and I know you. You might've been fun for a minute. Nothing besides. I promise you, that's how he feels too." Finally, he left the barn.

Beth stood a moment, wanting to let him get far ahead of her before she left as well. She was shaking and dizzy. When she opened her mouth to take in a deep breath it came as a kind of ragged bark. She swallowed and blinked back a little bit of moisture. He wasn't going to make her cry, especially not with _those_ lies. But his words were still beating against her, even as she denied them to herself.

_Daryl isn't like that._

_He isn't._

When she opened the barn door, Otis was standing about twenty feet away. His eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw her. She'd forgotten to check that the coast was clear, the way she'd been trying to get in the habit of doing over the last few weeks. He did a double-take when he saw her, then looked off, far into the field where Dave was striding to meet up with a few of the other farmhands.

"What're you doing in there Beth?" _With a farmhand_, he didn't add. It wasn't the right one anyway.

"Reading. I feel asleep," she tried to keep her voice even, but she could hear how it was still trembling, a sure give-away that she wasn't quite out of crying territory yet.

"Are you alright?" She'd never seen Otis look this deeply concerned before.

Making her face smile she just said, "Where's my dad?"

"He's finishing up calving season with the heifer." Otis pointed, brow still lined with concern, "Beth—are you sure you shouldn't go up to the house?"

"Nope. Gotta talk to my dad," she tried to force her usual lightness into her voice, but in the end she could only hide her emotions by turning away and walking briskly to the barn where the heifer was giving birth.

The first person she saw as she approached the heifer's barn was Daryl. Seeing him for the first time since Dave had decided to destroy her calm was more than she'd been prepared for. What if they made him leave her? What if he let them?

Daryl was washing his hands at the well, an indication that the heifer's task was done. He looked up when he saw her approaching and glanced around nervously, drying his hands against his trousers. "Hey," still scanning the area he met her partway, "Just finished up. Your dad's gone back to the house… I was just gonna come find ya, figured you wouldn't be at the barn no more..." As he got closer and started to take in her face, his own grew serious and he trailed off into silence. Blue eyes clouded with worry, "Y'alright?" with no one around to see, he reached out and cupped her face in his big, rough hand.

Looking into his eyes, she felt a flood of reassurance. They would make this work. She wouldn't let him vanish, even if her father did make him leave the farm.

She gripped it and turned into him, kissing his palm and then shaking her head. "I gotta tell my dad."

He didn't need her to explain what it was she had to tell him, though he might have wanted to protest, he just looked at her and then slowly nodded, murmuring, "I best prepare to run for my life," but he didn't drop his hand from her face, it stayed warm and heavy against her, fingers working their way through strands of hair to curl into her scalp.

"No," she shook her head, "I don't think it's right yet, but Dave _saw_ us yesterday." She bit down hard on her bottom lip. She'd wanted to talk to Daryl about this first, but her intentions didn't make her feel any better that he was only hearing about it now—after everything had already been decided.

Daryl's face got stony at that. "Well, some wiseass comments he made earlier today are makin' a little more sense," he grumbled.

"He said he'd keep it from daddy, but I had to… do stuff for him," she finished lamely, unable to look Daryl in the face for the moment. Over his shoulder, she could see Otis approaching them rapidly, but for the moment she couldn't will herself to care if he saw them together. He'd know soon enough. She closed her eyes, leaning more of her weight up against Daryl. His arm had grown stiff against her for a moment and then he melted, pulling her into a tight embrace. Their heartbeats raced at the same pace, but as her lungs filled with air and her chest pressed up tight against him, she realized that he was holding his breath. His lips pressed against her forehead firmly and then he let her go.

"Hey! Beth!" Otis rushed towards them; the heavy-set man was already winded from the short jog. "Right after I talked to ya, I saw your dad up at the house!" he called.

"Make sure she gets to him!" Daryl stumbled away from her.

When Beth looked at him again it was to see him with his blue eyes sharp, his face already twisted into a snarl as he paced away from her, starting to breathe again in ragged draws. "I gotta go," he started at a stalk but within a few yards he sped up.

"Wait! Daryl—what're you gonna do?!" she shouted, taking a few steps after him, but he shot a look back over his shoulder that stopped her short. She was pretty sure she knew what he was going to do.

"Can't stop me," he hollered.

* * *

Finding Dave by the stables, surrounded by the other farmhands, including Tony, barely gave Daryl any pause. If there had been anything running through his mind besides a sustained chant for blood and a pounding worse than any hang-over, then he might have considered the possibility that the odds were against him. Dave saw him coming and didn't look surprised at all. The self-assured satisfaction on his face was hardly marred by grim recognition. He knew why Daryl was coming towards him like a freight-train and with a single gesture he told the others to hang back. Big mistake.

"So you here 'cause your little—" Dave only got that far into whatever he'd been planning to say before he realized that Daryl didn't have _any_ intention of letting him speak.

His fist flew and Dave couldn't quite back up fast enough to do more than lessen the blow as his knuckles connected with his cheek. His head snapped to the side as the skin split open immediately over his cheekbone. Again Dave hesitated, either stunned or under the shameful misconception that there might be some rules or regulations to this 'duel', that Daryl was going to give him a second of air to recover from the blow and work up to throwing his own right back.

Daryl wasn't looking to fight anyone. This was a beat-down.

His other fist hurtled into with Dave's gut and he stomped one leg against his knee, sending him crashing into the dirt.

Round about the third or fourth kick to the ribs, the other farmhands seemed to snap out of their stupor. "Hey! HEY!"

With one heavy boot he rolled Dave back a few feet. He'd stopped trying to get to his feet.

Lou shouted in his ear while six arms pulled him off of Dave. Dragging him backwards, with so much weight against him he couldn't do anything more than let them.

A rasping inhale let them know that Dave was still conscious. He struggled to roll onto all fours. Tony let go of Daryl, trusting Len and Lou to keep a hold of him while he ran to his friend's side and helped him to his feet.

"You get him _away_ from here, got it?!" Daryl growled, "I see you 'round here again—"

Dave lifted his head. Daryl didn't remember hitting him in the face after the initial blow, but he must have, because his lip was split open, dribbling blood and drool made a track down his chin. "I will murder you." He yanked away from Len and Lou, whirling around, careful not to give his back to any of them, just in case someone wanted to repay him. It didn't look like anyone did, except maybe Dave, but from the way he was wheezing, Daryl was pretty certain that he'd broken some ribs, which had then punctured a lung. He'd had that injury before. It hurt like a son of a bitch and made it pretty tough to fight back.

Walking away, he couldn't calm down. Curb-stomping Dave hadn't helped release this tension at all. Sure—it felt great and it _needed_ to happen. But he wasn't mollified. He was terrified.

He'd gone and done it now.

They were going to put it together. They would know now, in no uncertain terms, what kind of man he was. He'd have to leave, be chased off for everything he'd done, for ever laying his hands on the girl, and then for laying his _fists_ on Dave. They'd condemn him, and they had every right to.

The only peace he could own in that moment was one ringing thought; _farmgirl's worth all of it._

* * *

**Daryl laying the absolute smack-down on Dave was an inevitability, everyone called it:) And for that I virtual-high-five my reviewers! Of course, since he's Daryl, he's still going to think the worst of himself and figure that everyone else thinks it too. *sigh* poor man. Reaction shots and some new twisties next chapter. I've decided I should just stop estimating how long this is going to be. Ignore my predictions, I'm always wrong.**

**In case I haven't mentioned it yet, I absolutely love to hear what you guys think, from constructive criticism to just gushy feels about the wonderfulosity that is Bethyl, don't hesitate to send me a review or private message if you so feel inclined! Also, I'm on tumblr, my url is alillywhite, but I also have a secondary blog called apocalypse-married where I sort all my walking dead stuff.**

**Internet is still an inconsistent mess, but I'm confident I'll figure something out again soon and have the next chapter up real quick. Peace and love homies!**

**Knights of Cydonia - Muse**


	24. As Jesus Likes

***attack hug* I LOVE YOU ALL! Thank you mucho to everyone who's following, favorited and recommending this fic, y'all make my world a bright happy Bethyly place.**

* * *

No one knew yet, precisely what was going on. Beth could see the confusion in their faces, could practically hear their thoughts as they began to map out their own theories. It was within her power to end all this worry and speculation now.

_I should tell them. I should just spill it all._

And then she said nothing.

After depositing her on the porch with her mother and Patricia, Otis had insisted on talking to Hershel alone first.

Her mother and Patricia sat with her, both of their faces lined and grim, taking her silence as a bad omen. It wasn't like her to keep quiet about something she knew they'd want to hear. If she wasn't saying anything, she had a reason. It didn't stop them from asking, but she couldn't pry her teeth apart yet. Her head was far away, trying to imagine what was happening with Daryl right that moment.

_Speak up, girl._

Her nerves got the better of her.

Her family wasn't ready for this yet. They were moving in the right direction, but they weren't there.

She wasn't even entirely sure that she and Daryl were ready either.

Maybe they could have a little more time. Maybe Dave wouldn't be able to say anything, because Daryl would break his jaw or something.

At the same time that Otis and her father reappeared on the porch, wearing matching stoic masks, all the farmhands, minus Daryl came up from the stables. They were gathered around Dave, whose face and probably more besides was all banged up; he was walking strangely and holding onto his side.

"What happened to Dave?" Annette put a hand over her mouth.

"Oh!" Patricia saw him too, "Is he alright?" she shouted, taking a few steps down the front porch.

"It's only what he deserves," said Otis, loudly enough that the farmhands could all hear him. He placed a hand on his wife's shoulder as he passed her on the stairs, heading towards them. "Where's Daryl?"

"He took off towards nightwatch," said one of the newer farmhands, Beth thought his name was Len, but hadn't spoken to him before. All of them were still helping Dave get to his white Buick.

Otis began to march towards nightwatch, without a backward glance at anyone.

"Did _Daryl_ do that?" yelled Annette, her eyes shifting from Dave's injuries to her daughter's face.

No one answered, but Lou called out to Tony, "Take him to the emergency room. His lung's messed up, for sure."

Nodding, Tony loaded Dave into a car and they took off.

"I just wanna make it real clear, that what just happened didn't involve any of the rest of us," Lou had removed the hat he was wearing and wrung it in his hands. He and Len approached the porch, but didn't get within ten feet of them. "Neither of us, nor Tony knew anything about anything." He nodded to Beth, but aside from that, seemed scared to so much as look at her straight on.

Patricia and Annette were both staring at Beth now, as Lou and Len retreated from the house. She couldn't stand being under their eyes like this. If they hadn't guessed precisely what was going on yet, it wouldn't be long before they did.

What if he tried to pack up his camp and leave? As soon as she thought of this, she tried to take off, but her father stopped her.

"Beth. Come here." He beckoned her to join him in the living room.

Facing the music, as it were, didn't come easily for Beth. She'd never been the kind of child who had to fess up to mischief. Now, all grown up, she'd never exercised those muscles. She wished it could have been different circumstances that brought this about. She wished she had Daryl next to her to hold her hand. She looked up at her father's kind, understanding face, suddenly stern as iron and fell mute.

"I think I've put it together on my own, but you can correct me if I get anything wrong, alright Bethy?" his voice was low, still kind, though there was a lot of quiet anger in his face.

Still struggling with a lump in her throat, she could only nod.

"I've gathered a bit from Otis. He says that Dave came out of the barn and you followed after him, and appeared to be upset. I'm not asking you what he did or said, but if you'd like to tell me, you may." He paused a moment, giving her time to respond.

It was clear that he wanted her to say something, but she just looked at the ground between them and waited for him to speak.

"You told Otis you needed to speak to me and he sent you to the barn where the heifer was, but I'd already left. You only found Daryl there. You broke down and told him whatever had happened. When Otis caught up with you, he said that he saw Daryl comforting you." Her father used the tip of his finger to lift her chin up just enough to see her eyes. "Then Daryl took off, leaving you with Otis and according to the other farmhands and my own eyes, he delivered a rather impressive beating to Dave."

"He was just trying to protect me," she managed to say, throat constricted still, but with a deep breath she started to feel the tension easing in her chest. Clearly, her father's anger was mostly reserved for Dave, though he didn't know the specifics of what had happened.

With a mighty sigh, Hershel patted her shoulder and turned to look out the window, hands in his pockets. "This puts me in an awful predicament, Bethy. Do you think Dave might go to the police?"

She shook her head immediately, a humorless laugh puffed out of the back of her throat. "No." Dave knew full well that one conversation between Beth and the police would get him in at least as much hot water as Daryl.

"Do _we_ need to go to the police?" Hershel watched her carefully as she continued to shake her head.

"It's not that big a deal," she said firmly.

Her father maintained his hard stare, "Are you sure."

"Dave's just a jerk, he doesn't need to be locked up. Maybe gettin' beat down once'll make him think better next time."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Hershel relaxed slightly. "It's still a tight spot, but I think after a little chat with Daryl, we can settle this in-house."

"A… chat?" Beth blinked up at her father. He didn't have the same perceptive skills as her mother, but he was sharp. That having been said, so far he'd given no indication that he suspected there was anything going on between his daughter and Daryl. Maybe they could have more time. Maybe they would be able to come forward on their own terms, after all.

"I'm torn, because as a businessman I know that I shouldn't tolerate violence between my employees, but in this case…" he laughed shortly, "Do I chastise him or give him a raise, Bethy? Otis recommended the latter. He says that he might've done the same as Daryl, if you'd spilled to him."

With a careful breath, Beth felt like she was finally thinking clearly again. If her father suspected that there was anything more to Daryl's actions on her behalf than allegiance to the Greenes and testosterone he was at least giving her the benefit of the doubt… or, an opportunity to fess up without being called out.

She only had a few seconds to decide before her silence would start to look guilty. It wasn't time. They weren't ready. "He's got a dangerous temper for sure… but he's also got that same loyalty to the farm, and to us. Just like Otis."

Hershel nodded, eyes still searching her.

"I was so worried you'd fire him… 'cause I couldn't keep my mouth shut," she sniffed, but she was traveling in the other direction, far away from tears now that she knew everything was going to be alright.

Hershel's face softened and new understanding came there. He thought that the reason she'd been so silent and fearful was because she held herself responsible. He didn't know. He didn't suspect the real guilt that had a hold of her insides in a vice-grip. They weren't going to make Daryl leave.

Of course, he might have already made a break for it, and as she remembered this, her heart gave a little jolt. "I gotta—" she whirled around, intending to run find Daryl and stop him from pulling up stakes, but the second she faced the front door it was to look out and see Otis and Daryl walking towards the porch. Her mother and Patricia had already noticed them and were running to meet the men.

Still with a bit of a distance between then, she observed Daryl's cautious demeanor. His usual walk more hesitant, his shoulders were bent and his head bowed. She could tell he was chewing on his lips. Otis had one hand at his shoulder, trying to reassure him, perhaps, but Daryl looked like he was expecting someone to hit him.

As she drew near, Annette slowed, approaching them like she was about to introduce herself to an animal that was libel to bolt. Once he was within arm's length, she gave Daryl and quick and binding hug.

Immediately, the stiffness in his shoulders and back gave a little. As her mother let him go, Beth noticed him relaxing, one strand of torqued-up muscle at a time. No one was making to stone him just yet. By the time she and her father reached them, Otis was filling Patricia and her mother in on what had happened in more detail, while Daryl stood a little removed, not meeting anyone's eyes, including hers.

They halted the conversation once Hershel arrived, Beth only caught the last few words of what Otis had been saying, "…I know things ain't done that way anymore, but honestly, I don't mind a little throw-back-throw-down for old time's sake."

Patricia laughed nervously. Her mother's face was grim, but she forced a little smile.

One by one everyone looked up at Hershel, expect for Daryl who finally looked at Beth with raw insecurity.

"Daryl, let's you and I go for a walk," in spite of what he'd said to Beth about being tempted to give Daryl a pay-raise, he was using an authoritative tone. It wasn't a request. He had to play dual roles right now, and Beth didn't envy him the challenge. He was both grateful and horrified.

They started to walk off together, but Beth couldn't let him just go like that, not after what he'd done and how he must be feeling. In addition, if her family was ever going to find out and accept that they were together, it was best to ease them into the idea. "Wait, Daryl…" she jogged to catch up and threw her arms around his waist, careful not to let her movements be too intimate and give away that this was something they'd done dozens of times before. She tried to let it be an awkward hug, for the sake of the audience.

Daryl was good at awkward hugs. He didn't have to fake how uncomfortable he was to have her suddenly hug him in front of her parents and Otis and Patricia. At first it was like wrapping herself around a rock, except that this rock had a heartbeat that picked up the pace as she pressed her ear against his chest. Slowly, his hands came to rest lightly on her back and then she let him go, smiling up at him wordlessly. He did his part beautifully, continuing to gnaw on his lower lip like a nervous wreck and nodding to her before he turned back to her father.

With unprecedented difficulty she tried not to glance at her parents for a reaction, it would only make her look suspect to them. Instead she stepped back to stand between Patricia and Annette, doing her best to look like hugging Daryl after he'd just stomped some jerk's ass on her behalf was the most natural thing in the world to do.

As they started back to the house together, she finally gave in and looked at her mother's face. Annette's expression hadn't changed much from the grim, pensive mask that she'd put on earlier. She glanced over at her daughter and met her eye, Beth was concerned to see questions lurking there, but her mother waited until they were in the kitchen alone together before she asked.

"What _did_ Dave say to you?" Annette set a glass of water in front of Beth, who was sitting at the table with her legs up to her chest and her arms locked around her knees.

"Don't really wanna repeat any of it," Beth grimaced.

"But you repeated it to Daryl?" Annette raised an eyebrow at her.

Beth shrugged and took a sip, "I was upset."

"You're fine now?" her mother's voice was all motherly concern and sweetness, but Beth could pick up on the underlying Sherlock scan that she was running on her daughter. It was a dangerous game, trying to get her mother to believe something that wasn't true.

"Well," Beth let her face get red and did little to fight back a grin, "It was kinda satisfying to see Dave all beat-up like that. I know it's wrong, but it did make me feel better," she giggled nervously.

Her mother looked doubtful, but she didn't try and wrangle the real story out of her. For a moment, Beth imagined what she would have to say if she were being entirely honest '_Truth is, I was mostly upset because I thought you and dad were going to find out that Daryl and I have been sneaking off to be alone together and that you'd make him leave the farm. I feel better now, because that didn't happen. Anyway, Daryl's great. I'm fallin' for him like an avalanche_._'_

If her mother really could read minds, her eyebrows would have vanished under her fringe, her eyes would have been round and her well-practiced tongue would have begun demanding a full confession while she worked through what she ought to do next. Instead, her expression was still soft, her eyes slightly narrowed. It was the look she wore when she was still trying to put the puzzle together. If she suspected anything close to the truth, she didn't feel that she had enough to accuse. She wasn't even to the point where she would start nudging her daughter with theories until she broke.

"Now, we shouldn't revel in Dave's suffering," Annette could only manage mild disapproval.

"Yeah. Jesus wouldn't like it," Beth fought a smile.

Annette winked at her, "No, he wouldn't."

* * *

_The hell is wrong with these people?_

Ever since coming to the Greene family farm, Daryl had found these words floating across his mind a lot.

They were so _happy. _Dammit.

Not perfect. Not even pretending at it, like some folks did. He knew they had their troubles, and their quarrels, could sense the tension when Hershel was stressed about something personal. He heard the toneless edge in Otis' voice when he hadn't gotten as much time with his wife as he wanted. Even Beth had her snarky moments when things weren't going precisely her way, but they didn't let it bend them out of shape. They didn't let it turn them nasty. They were still a family and even in their moments of selfishness they never seemed to let go of that, even for a second.

Still very much on the outside of all of it, Daryl watched greedily.

It had been two weeks since the incident with Dave. Unfortunately Daryl hadn't seen much of Beth in all that time. It was always tougher during the week for them to carve out time together, but Daryl was feeling more and more like it was time to exercise a little extra caution. He didn't want to abandon her, but they were fools if they didn't realize the risks every time they went off together. The other farmhands were watching. Her family was watching. The whole thing with Dave never would have even happened if he hadn't let things get so obvious.

They only significant time they'd been able to spend together in the last two weeks was the previous Sunday, after another hour in the chapel, listening to the preacher go on about Adam and Eve in the Garden and watching Beth's hair glisten like a melting halo. Waiting for her to sing.

They'd met up in the barn, finally, but neither of them had felt like talking much. He just held her. Beth didn't say anything about Dave, or what had happened. Daryl only said three words about it._ "What a dick."_ It was ugly and it was over.

By the time the next weekend rolled around, Daryl was aching to have some real time together. Opportunity arrived in the form of a minor disaster.

The big charity auction turned out to be the same weekend as a wedding for a family friend. Neither of these were events that Daryl could really relate to worrying a great deal about, and he wasn't sure precisely _why_ it was such a problem to choose one terminally boring thing to attend. In the end, Hershel and Annette decided to go to the wedding, while Otis and Patricia were recruited to represent the farm at the auction and decided to make a bit of a getaway out of it. The result was that Beth was handed the reins of the farm for the weekend, something that Daryl gathered had never happened before.

"Maybe I should ask Shawn if he can come down—just for the weekend," Hershel kept his voice low, looking around, as if suspecting that Beth might be close enough to hear him thinking twice about allowing her to run things on her own, even for two days.

Hershel and Otis commiserated over the lack of a perfect solution a few feet away from Hershel's truck, while Daryl lay underneath it, changing out the oil.

"Patricia and I could just stay in town—" Otis started.

"She's looking forward to this. Ya don't want to deal with her wrath any more than I do," said Hershel slowly.

"It's just a lot of responsibility for Beth to keep the whole farm running, even if it's only for a couple days. She's… still a kid?" but at least Otis had the good sense not to sound certain about that. "Even if you did have Shawn come down—he's almost _worse_ when it comes to this kind of thing," Otis chuckled.

From underneath the car, Daryl tried to eavesdrop, which meant a futile attempt to unscrew the cap quietly, or at least work at it between significant phrases. He gave up after a few dark, muffled seconds and decided to just get on with it. Moving quickly out of the way, he adjusted the position of the pan, so as not to let any of the dirty oil spill onto the ground. Then he scooted out from under the car, beating the dust off his trousers and hands.

"Why don't you weigh in on this, Dixon? You're the one who's still gonna be here one way or another." Otis suggested, motioning to Hershel with one exhausted hand, a work-glove nearly flopping out of his grip.

Caught off-guard, Daryl shrugged and cleared his throat. He wanted to listen, not offer an opinion.

"Who's on nightwatch this weekend?" Hershel asked a better question, regarding Daryl expectantly.

"Len and Javier, tonight, me and Lou Saturday," he hesitated a moment, knowing that his opinion on the subject of leaving Beth alone to run the farm, was decidedly biased. All the same, he knew that Beth wanted them to just go and leave her to it. For a lot of reasons, this was her stance, and she wasn't here to speak for herself. He tried to think of what she'd say to persuade her father and Otis not to worry about the farm, "…fact is… s'business as usual this weekend. The storm might mean bother, but nothin' she can't handle. The only extra thing ya got goin' on is the nightwatch. The pack hasn't bothered us yet. If there was ever a couple of days when you were gonna test her and let her take charge all on her own, this'd be a good time." He finished his little speech off with another casual shrug, not able to look either of them in the eye. He was _not_ doing this to try and snag some alone time with her. He wasn't.

Maybe he was a little. _Yep. I'm a bad man._

"She's a good girl, and she can probably _handle_ it all on her own," said Otis diplomatically, but his eyes were still narrow and there was a wince at the corner of his mouth that indicated there was certainly a 'but' coming, "…but without a safety net, even? I'm fine with her bein' in charge; just not sure how I feel about her bein' in charge, and _alone_. 'Specially when she's been out of the swing of things."

"Well, she wouldn't be entirely alone," Hershel pointed out, gesturing to Daryl.

"And if all our hands were named Daryl we might be fine," Otis' face fell into a grimace, "But after what happened with Dave…" he trailed off, letting that stand on its own so they could put it together.

No one had really mentioned the incident with Dave in the two weeks since it had all gone down. Daryl couldn't remember more than a few words of the tense conversation with Hershel that followed Dave's sound beating and dismissal. He'd caught the gist of it. Hershel wasn't going to fire him. He appreciated Daryl's anger, and his quick action to defend his daughter, but that wasn't the way things were done on the Greene farm. Daryl needed to understand that if he was going to stick around much longer. He'd still been in the red, hyper-aware and ready to defend himself or attack. He was also still expecting that Hershel might've started to pick up on the attachment between the farmhand and the farmer's daughter.

At the very least, Hershel could probably tell that Daryl was partial to her; that (as Maggie had so bluntly told me) he looked at Beth differently. If he did see it, than Hershel wasn't holding it against him, but that was bound to change if he ever worked out that Beth let him touch her, hold her, kiss her. She claimed to want him the same way that he wanted her. That would change everything, if Hershel ever knew.

"Yes. The Dave incident," Hershel sighed, mouth forming into a grim line as his blue eyes went narrow. "I can't think of a more perfect illustration of just how powerless I am to protect my children," he said heavily, but with a shallow he managed to push aside the dark thought, "Even if the hands were inclined to mischief—and I like to give them the benefit of the doubt—with what happened to Dave still fresh in the farm's memory, I don't believe we'd have a problem."

Won over, at least in this one respect, Otis laughed again, slapping Daryl on the arm as he made his way past him to head back to the house. "I'm sure you'll do what's best, Hershel, ya always do."

The farmer looked like he didn't think he deserved such praise. His face had dropped into a frown and he turned back to Daryl, rolling his eyes ever so slightly.

Never having seen the old man own such a flippant gesture, Daryl felt the corner of his mouth start to pull into the tiniest smirk.

But the farmer's face had gone serious again, his frown deepened as he let out a slow sigh. "I know that you and Beth broke house rules."

Daryl had been cleaning some of the grease and oil from between his fingers with a rag. The moment Hershel revealed that he'd been aware of them breaking the rules he knew that the farmer was not referring to the few seconds that Beth had spoken to him about Dave, before Otis arrived. He froze, dropping both his hands, and quickly checked to see if the farmer wasn't within arm's length of a weapon.

"Shawn mentioned, before he left, about the night that he accidentally shot you, while on watch."

Relaxing a few inches, Daryl reached towards his chest. The bruise had faded weeks earlier.

"He said that Beth insisted on getting you to put on some equine liniments," he chuckled, and Daryl decided that the old man definitely did not suspect them, but then what was he driving at? "When he tried to remind her about the rules, she said _'it's Daryl,'_ like that made all the difference in the world. It's getting harder and harder to question that girl's judgment." He started to walk away, seeming inclined to leave their conversation right there but stopped with a sigh and turned back to him after a couple of paces, "The truth is, Daryl, she's my _daughter._ I could leave her with Otis, Patricia, her mother, her brother, Maggie, you and Genghis Khan's army to protect her and I'd still worry about her as long as I wasn't around to see with my own eyes that she's alright. Even then, I hardly trust myself to know what she's going through these days. It gets so much worse as they get older and drift away. I worry every day for Maggie and Shawn… not sure I'm ready to start that with my littlest girl."

Watching the old man head back into the house, Daryl wondered again...

_The hell's wrong with these people?_

He'd never known how to grow up any other way than what he was; what he'd been honed into by neglect, want and countless beatings. How did a kid like him grow up to be someone like Hershel Greene?

He'd never forgotten what Beth had told him about her father the night that they met. He'd pieced together other parts of Hershel story from his daily observations and conversations with the farmer. Up to about Daryl's age, their lives didn't look all that different. But Hershel was a different kind of man; a better man in so many ways. Daryl didn't know how to go about emulating someone like that; wasn't even sure he really wanted to. He just knew that he wanted to change. For as long as he remembered, he'd never had that feeling before.

All this time he'd been spending with Beth made him feel different. Like someone else. Before he met her, he hadn't realized how tired he was of all the same shit; of being Daryl Dixon, a washout, drifting nobody. Just some redneck asshole with an even bigger asshole for a brother.

More than anything, he was afraid that once he left the farm—and he knew he'd have to leave—he would just go back to being that guy again, forever.

He finished up on the truck and took care of the dirty oil. As he closed the hood, he glanced in the back of the cab, where Hershel and Annette had already put their bags. With Beth having the farm all to herself this weekend, and with implied orders to look after her, there was less to keep them apart than ever before. He didn't want to drag all his heavy thoughts into this. He just wanted to enjoy being with her, for as long as it was still possible.

* * *

**Confession. I under-estimated the length hard, and got way too overconfident in my writing abilities. I thought I was going to finish this whole story like three weeks ago. That did NOT happen, because reasons, and now I've hit a snag in the form of I'm beginning my first year of Law School in t-minus 8 days.**

**...Heh.**

**U****pdates will slow down. My usual writing habits have to change dramatically once I start classes, but I'm going to shoot for a new chapter once a week.  
**

**...And a little bit of good news! The next two chapters are both basically done already, they just need editing and a little expansion (and I'm still having to hunt for a computer with internet access) I should have at least that much up before I am eaten by law school monsters. Yay!**

**Hallelujah – Jeff Buckley**


	25. Playing House

**I hope y'all are feeling fabulous today and also, I hope you're in the mood for fluff.**

**...FLUFF!**

* * *

Once the farmhouse was deserted, Beth did everything she could to put the farm in order right away. There wasn't much work to be done. Another storm was scheduled to roll through, but everything was already in place. Once the rain started to pummel the windows and the sky darkened, there wasn't much to do but hunker-down for the night and wait for it to pass.

Ever since this plan for her to take charge for the weekend started to fall into place, she'd looked for an opportunity to get Daryl alone, and ask him to come to the house. Unfortunately, ever since he beat all the bullshit out of Dave, he'd been more distant. Or maybe it was her. She couldn't be sure what precisely it had changed between them, or why, but she hated this one-step-forward-two-steps-back dance. She didn't want to bring it up, if she didn't have to, because she wasn't sure she could say anything without it just sounding like she was complaining that he wasn't paying enough attention to her or that they weren't spending enough time together. In reality there wasn't much either of them could do about that. She knew it. He knew it. Why did they have to talk about it?

Sometimes, she wondered if she'd missed her opportunity to set things right. Maybe she should have come clean to her father about everything when he'd first pulled her aside to ask about what happened with Dave. On three separate occasions throughout the last two weeks she'd found herself marching off to find her father, fully intending to tell him everything. Each time, she came to her senses, usually about the time she actually saw him; wise, aging face, white hair and a frown that was chiseled deeper into him than it used to be. No. They weren't ready.

After double-checking that she'd done everything on Otis' checklist and that she had all the keys and emergency numbers handy, Beth put on a jacket and went out into the storm.

Through the grim fog and the trickling, deliberate rain—an indication that the sky was just getting started on a good hard cry—a pair of headlights glowed eerily down the road. Heartened as she thought she recognized the color and make, even through the mist, Beth ran to meet Daryl.

He pulled off the road just in front of her. The lights were barely off and he was climbing out of the car and shutting the door in one fluid movement. She met him just feet in front of his truck. "I was just gonna come find you." She splashed in shallow puddles already beginning to form as she drew near.

"Didn't wanna let ya do that," he met her and put a hand at the small of her back, motioning towards the house. They were both blinking back stray raindrops as they hurried up the porch and into the house.

Once out of the rain, Beth stripped her jacket off and turned to take Daryl's from him, but instead, she found him standing stalk-still on the mat, blue eyes scanning the room nervously. "What's wrong?" she giggled a little, he looked so comically uncomfortable she couldn't help it.

"S'just weird," he muttered.

She realized it was only the second time that he'd ever been inside the house before. Last time, it had at least been packed with strangers and he'd been invited by her parents, something she gathered could take the edge off. Now he looked like he was feeling all the implied edges of being inside the Greene home.

"Why?" she finally walked around him, pulling his jacket off his shoulders with a tug. It was already soaked. He must have been outside in the rain before he drove up to the house.

"I dunno—shouldn't be," he shrugged all the way out of the coat, rubbing at his right forearm. "Been plenty of places I didn't belong before." He added.

"You belong here." She hung their coats up to dry off.

Not having a response for her, Daryl just continued to look around the house, finally taking a cautionary step off the mat. He dried his palms against his trousers.

"I was thinkin' of doing breakfast for dinner," Beth contained her grin with the tiniest nibble on her lower lip. "Pancakes, or waffles or something like that. Sound good?"

With a slight flush in his neck, Daryl's eyes flickering to her mouth. "You're gonna make dinner?"

"Well, yeah," said Beth brightly, "We've got this whole house to ourselves. Maybe it's kinda adolescent, but I figure we've gotta play house a little, or else we ain't doin' the thing right."

"Well, I'd hate to not do it right," Daryl fought against a little smirk as he followed her into the kitchen. "Don't think I've played house since I was a kid."

"You played house?" Beth paused in searching through the cupboard for the brown sugar, turning to look back at him over her shoulder, a little heat in her cheeks as she smiled. It took a moment's effort to imagine Daryl as a little boy, playing with other kids.

"Well—sorta," his demeanor fell a little, something she'd come to understand meant they were dancing very close to a nerve. She half expected him to fall silent, the way he often did when they approached the topic of his past. "More like, I wasn't the only kid around who had parents that didn't exactly… take care of 'em. Some were real young. If they wanted a juice or a toy or somethin', more often than not, they knew not go to their parents. They'd come ask me instead. I'd find whatever they needed and get it to them. Food. Books. Cough syrup," he let out a short bark of laughter, looking out the window at the rain a moment. "I sorta thought of it like a game. Like I was playin' at being their dad, or their older brother, takin' care of 'em. But I guess, looking back, I was just breakin' into people's homes and stealing shit."

She'd abandoned the sugar for the moment, leaning back against the counter with an arm on either side to hold her upright. A lot of the time, it was all she could do; just listen when Daryl talked about his childhood. He didn't open up much, especially not about these early years, but she'd managed to piece together a murky picture. It had been a rough, lonely time for him, dotted with horrific episodes of violence and the ever-present threat of more to come.

"Lucky I never got caught," he added, sheepish as he rubbed at his trap muscle, just under the collar of his sleeveless flannel shirt.

"More like you got some skills," Beth rolled her eyes at him.

"Yeah, at bein' a criminal," his mouth was in a grimace, but she could see that there was still a little humor in his eyes. He hadn't fallen into too-dark territory.

"At a _lotta_ stuff," her face was starting to burn again. She turned away so that she could smile openly into the cupboard without him seeing.

"Okay—lemme help, what're we doin'?"

When she glanced back it was to find him looking around the kitchen, seemingly a little baffled and overwhelmed.

"We need some syrup—there's a saucepan—yeah, in there." She turned and went up on tiptoes, but the sugar had been pushed all the way into the back of the cupboard.

After a few seconds of her struggling Daryl came up and bumped into her from behind reaching over her shoulder to take the sugar from the back and push it into her groping hand. Not wanting to let him escape when she had him so close, Beth turned around to grab onto the front of his shirt with her free hand, only to find that his other arm had already been making its way around her waist. His thumb slid over the top of her waistband against her hip, sending out a shiver from where their skin touched, she closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of him close, yet again. He breathed out against her forehead. She tilted her head back, capturing his mouth as he leaned into her.

Before now, she'd _known_ how much she'd missed him. She'd been well aware of the distance from him over the last weeks. Even when they'd met the one time up in the barn, they'd both felt so visibly exhausted and beaten, hardly able to appreciate the precious time alone through their own clouded heads. Now though, she _felt_ it deep, that she'd missed him. She dropped the bag of brown sugar on the counter and gripped onto either of his arms, letting her hold get more desperate as she slid up to his shoulders.

It was a slow, savoring kind of kiss; he wasn't coaxing her to move him, he just tasted her. As his arms tightened around her waist, she could feel that he'd missed her too, in that same, deep-in-the-bones way. She hung onto his bottom lip between her teeth for a heartbeat, then pulled away with a sigh.

"You're actually gonna do this part," she pushed the brown-sugar back into his hand, still mostly wrapped around her waist.

"Whatever ya say," he backed away and she was pleased to see there was some reluctance in each deliberate footstep.

Head still fuzzy, she tried to recall her mother's preferred method, "You're gonna put equal parts brown sugar and water in there—then add some molasses, it's up in—yeah that's right," she smirked, as he once again was able to identify which cupboard to check. Maybe all those times he'd broken into other people's houses had taught him where the most common places to find certain items would be. "Once it's all melted and mixed together, we'll cut it with some real maple syrup."

While they made breakfast/dinner together, the rain outside grew more insistent, the sky got darker and threatening, but it couldn't do anything to dampen the mood. For the first time in weeks she felt utterly relaxed. She couldn't stop laughing, even at stupid things that weren't really funny and she could tell that Daryl had caught the vibe too.

"Alright, why even make some without chocolate, if you're only gonna eat the chocolate ones?" he challenged her as she once again skipped over a plain waffle in lieu of one stuffed with chocolate chips. He was leaning back in the chair across from her at the kitchen table, trying to balance on two legs.

"_You_ like the plain ones," she pointed out his plate, still drizzled with syrup, but he'd made short work of the meal.

"I don't got a preference on waffles. Ain't got enough experience with 'em to form one."

"Then, try a chocolate one?" she pushed her plate towards him.

He frowned and shook his head, "All yours. Think I'm good for now anyway," he snapped the chair back down onto the floor, then scooted it out and ambled over to the sink, gathering together the spent dishes as he went. He turned on the water and reached for the soap.

"Daryl Dixon, are you doin' the dishes?" Beth asked between bites.

"Yeah? What 'bout it?" A peculiar smile grew on his face.

"…What?"

"There was this one time. A kid in the neighborhood said his little sister was hungry, but mom was on a bender and they were all outta baby-food, so I went to this one house—rich people," but his eyes quickly scanned where he was and with a little more color in his face he added, "Well, they weren't _that_ rich," in undertone. "The mom and one of the kids was home when I snuck in, but I wasn't worried, 'cause I could hear 'em upstairs arguing and the side door was right nearby, so if they started to come to the kitchen I'd just scram. I found the babyfood quick, but they were bein' so _loud._ Mom tellin' her son it was his turn to do the dishes and him yelling that it wasn't—that it was the sister's turn. Her sayin' how he needed to be quiet 'cause the baby's sleeping," He snorted, "So I looked over at this sink full of dirty-ass dishes and I figure they're loud 'nough that they probably won't be able to hear the water running and it'd be pretty funny if after they were done screamin' at each other they came downstairs and found it all done already."

Beth giggled, and got up to put the rest of the food away.

"It only took a couple minutes. Almost got caught, 'cause the dad came home before I was finished, but he didn't see me neither. Mighta heard somethin'. I didn't care. I was just imagining the looks on their faces, all confused when the job's just _done._"

A lot of Daryl's stories were like that; heartbreaking as they may be, he often tried to include something light-hearted, if he could think of any such detail at all. "I'll dry," she took her place beside him at the counter. She wanted to keep them to keep up the conversation, but he fell silent after his story and she found her mind drifting back to the questions that had been plaguing her over the past few weeks. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but as they stood there, finishing up the work in front of their rain-dotted reflections in the window, she started to realize that she _needed_ to ask; even if she already knew the answers.

"…So, do the other farmhands know?" She put the plates back in the cupboard, and turned to look at him from over her shoulder, fingers drumming on the counter.

"Hum…" Daryl half-shrugged, "Pretty sure, yeah. Dave had a big mouth, and apparently either Lou or Len knows a little Spanish, 'cause the other day when you were out feedin' the chickens, and Javier and I were mucking out the stables, he turns to me and goes _'hay tu dueña' _and looks at you with this little smug smile_._ I dunno what it means but from the way he said it, I gather I know what he means."

She'd figured as much, but hadn't been too concerned after the way Lou and Len had both so pointedly avoided looking at her when they helped escort Dave to his car. "We ain't gotta worry 'bout them though, do we?"

"Nah." He shut the water off, but his jaw had gone taut. He gripped the edge of the counter, making eye-contact with the reflection in the window over the sink. Whatever he said, he did look stressed. "They're… not gonna cause trouble."

"They're scared of you," Beth translated. That couldn't be a comfortable work environment.

"They'll be gone soon anyway," Daryl straightened up.

"…Dave _did_ have a big mouth," she laughed shortly, it wasn't really funny, remembering the things he said to her, even with the epilogue of him beat-all-to-hell she couldn't laugh about it. "I'm sorry if I've been kinda distant," she looked down at her hands, curling her lips into her mouth a moment. "He rattled me. I shouldn't've let him do that."

Daryl narrowed his eyes, hesitating a moment before he crossed his arms and said, "What kinda bullshit came outta that douchebag's big mouth?"

"I _know_. I know it's bullshit," she looked away again, heat in her face. She didn't want to repeat it, especially not in his same words. "He was just tryin' to make me feel worthless. Problem was—it worked for a second."

A sound like a growl came from the back of Daryl's throat before it broke into words, "…didn't hit the sumbitch hard 'nough."

"He was mad that I rejected him, and so he went off about how you and him are the same. How you don't…" she trailed off, a little prickling in the corner of her eyes made her blink, but she drowned the instant of shame and sorrow with a healthy dose of exasperation that turned into a bark of laughter. She was still looking down, so she couldn't see him, but heard his footfalls coming near, felt the heat of him just before one hand rested on her shoulder. "It's stupid, I'm bein' stupid." She swallowed and took a deep breath, "I guess it's just been kinda awful, not seein' a lot of you since then."

His rough thumb brushed back and forth on the side of her throat. "I wanted to see ya. Every day… I guess I started gettin' worried that we might've been careless."

Shaking her head, she hoped he understood that she wasn't blaming him. "Yeah, I wondered that too. That's why I didn't come lookin' for ya." She finally met his eyes, darker than normal, but still clear as he searched her.

"I don't wanna do nothin' stupid. I wanna do right by ya, girl, but the way we been runnin' around like this, seems like just a matter of time 'fore there's a cock-up." He cupped the heel of his hand against her chin, thumb stroking her lips. "…On my part at least."

She'd been worried he'd do that, start thinking that whatever bad happened was all his fault. "You can't just blame it all on yourself. I'm in this too, ya know."

"Yeah, but it's different for ya," he grimaced.

"What do you mean?"

"'Cause you ain't the problem. If ya had some other guy, you wouldn't have to keep it a secret," he pointed out.

"Well, same goes for _you,_ Daryl."

"Nah. I'm just like that." He dropped his hand from her face, replacing it in his pocket as he leaned back against the counter, shoulders round again. "Beth I… I ain't ever done nothin' like this before." He was looking at the floor. "…Always kinda just fooled around. Ain't never been _that_ guy before."

Slowly learning more about him, Beth found she wasn't surprised. Nothing about his life was typical. "It's new for me too. I mean—I had a boyfriend, and I've seen other guys. Had a few who I saw off and on for a short time, but I didn't… It was just for fun, just 'cause I kinda thought it was what I was supposed to be doin'," she watched his face as she spoke, noticing the gears working in the back of his mind, "…Sound familiar?"

Holding her gaze steady, Daryl nodded, "Yeah. Real familiar," he muttered.

Whatever time he'd had with women before now, she felt pretty confident that it mirrored her own experiences to some degree. _What was expected_. _Just a little fun_. Maybe, in some ways Dave _did_ have a point to be made, expect he'd made a big mistake thinking that it applied to what they had. This was different from anything that either of them had experienced.

_Kinda terrifying, but it's real and I want it._

"Maybe you _are_ that guy, Daryl. Maybe you've been him all along. Other girls just couldn't see it."

Shuffling his feet, it was Daryl's turn to struggle with looking her right in the eye, he grumbled, "Keep thinkin' I'll screw it up."

"You won't." She wished she could offer him some more powerful reassurance, she could see in his face that he wasn't convinced. It made her heart bleed whenever she was confronted with how little belief he had in himself.

Still, he managed to shove aside the air of self-doubt with the tiniest smirk. "Don't say I didn't warn ya, Greene."

She smiled back. "I'm warned."

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**Mad respect for everyone who reviews, also for you beautiful people who favorite, follow and recommend the story. I'm still overwhelmed by how many people are taking the time to read! I luff you guys:)**

**Swallowed In The Sea - Coldplay **

**Thanks to Stephanie for doing an alpha-read for me, and also recommending this song for my Bethyl playlist... but... guys. She doesn't even watch TWD. It's crazy. She just texted the song to me because it made her think of Beth and Daryl. I was sort of surprised by how appropriate it is for them, especially since... I repeat, SHE DOESN'T WATCH THE SHOW.**

**Thanks Stephanie:) My favorite bit in this song is how it switches between the verses from the singer speculating 'get lost and then get found or swallowed in the sea' to him saying 'you'll come back to me, not swallowed in the sea'. It's a nice bit of optimism that definitely makes me think of Daryl. I imagine that as he's separated from it's hard to be hopeful every moment. I'm sure he has some dark times when he thinks that the worst could have happen, but he also must be having those beautiful moments of faith when he just says to himself 'no, she's alive and I'll find her'.**

**He's going to find her. And it's going to be beautiful. They so belong together.**


	26. Happy Birthday Maggie

**Phew. Guys. Law school. Yikes.**

**I missed you. I missed writing Bethyl. Forgive me, I know It's only been a week but it feels like six years. Anyway, I got this nice little chapter all spiffed up! Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's taken the time to send me some feedback, or encouragement. It's really such a big help, you've got no idea. And thanks to everyone who is following the story, who's put it on their favorite's list and also, BIG thank you to you awesome folks who recommended the story to friends and bethylers.**

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Finally managing to get relaxed in the kitchen, Daryl had to start all over again once they moved into the living room. For a little while, he'd managed to forget that he was a stranger here and just enjoy playing house with Beth, making waffles and eating together and talking like it was something they did all the time; like it wasn't a big deal. For Daryl, at least, it was a big deal. He was pretty sure Beth didn't understand what it meant to him, and he wasn't so good at explaining it to himself, let alone her, so instead he just basked.

Once they'd settled onto the couch in the living room, he had to start all over again, getting used to the idea of being an invader in her home; in her life. He held onto the edge of the seat, leaning forward slightly and watching her sideways as she got comfortable beside him, one foot curled up underneath her, and her arm resting on the back of the couch, her fingers occasionally twiddling at her hair.

She nibbled on her own sweet lips, eyes slanting over to his direction every few minutes while she worked through some puzzle in her head. "…You're right, that we ain't bein' all that careful."

He nodded. They should be smarter than this.

"That's why Dave caught us," she went on, "It's why I've been having trouble lookin' my mom in the eye. But maybe there's no other way to do this."

"What doya mean?" But he knew what she meant. She was speaking up about something he hadn't wanted to admit. There wasn't a _smart_ way for them to be together. The smart thing would have been if they'd never even started this. Smart would have been if he let her slip over the fence that night, shrugged and muttered a good riddance to himself. Even before that, smart would have meant neither of them ever going into Nick's house in the first place, never wound up on his street. Smart didn't figure into them.

"Maybe we gotta be a little careless sometimes." She smirked like she was thinking the same thing as he was.

"Like right now, maybe?" he looked pointedly around the living room.

"No one's around." She whispered, a wide grin taking over her face as she toyed with a few dozen strands of blonde hair. She let go after a moment, drawing her fingers slowly and smoothly up and down his arm.

"…Just don't think I can afford to think like that. I'm prone to dumb shit as it is. Whenever I can help it, I oughta try and rein in the mistakes."

"Is that how it's gonna be then? You try and keep us outta trouble and I get us into trouble?" She looked around the house, for the first time since they'd come inside a flash of worry crossed her eyes, like maybe she thought the walls could talk. Her hand stopped moving for a moment, but then she turned back to him, smiled and kept gently massaging at the muscle in his forearm.

"Didn't realize it was intentional." Unexpectedly, his mind turned back to sitting in the back of the chapel, waiting to hear Beth sing, "…Ya ever wonder if Eve mighta known something Adam didn't?"

"So, I'm Eve now?" she raised an eyebrow at the suggestion.

"I dunno." Only two people in the house and for the moment he felt like they might as well be the only two people in the world.

"Neither of them really knew anything until _after_ they ate."

"So, maybe that's the one thing Eve knew. It was the only way, without chowin' down on the forbidden fruit they woulda just wandered 'round the garden forever, like idiots."

Beth broke into laughter that shook both of them. "You gotta sit with us at church. Daddy'd love talkin' to you."

"I'm really just there to hear ya sing."

She went quiet at that, her smile softening until it vanished as her eyes grew more earnest on his face. "Oh." A little pink came into her face, and he knew that she was going over shy at the allusion to her voice.

She was so good at making him do things that made him uncomfortable. It was his turn. "Sing somethin'."

It took her a few red-faced seconds to oblige. She was nervous, he felt her hands getting warm and a little sweaty against him, until she pulled back, wringing them together for the first few tentative notes of a song he'd never heard before though the words were strangely familiar. "_It's unclear now what we intend_…"

He let her carry on for a few verses, watching her gorgeous blue eyes as they gazed unfocused into the air between them. Gradually, she unwound and her voice grew clearer, stronger. Without even tracking his own movements, Daryl realized he'd been drifting into her, bringing his face into the curve of her neck. The tip of his nose brushed against her collarbone, and he pursed his lips, taking in the raw, addictive scent of her skin. Her throat hummed as she kept singing, for just another moment, finally her voice broke into a soft moan when he stroked her pulse with his tongue.

She clutched his shoulders as her back arched, pressing into him firmly and letting her weight take him down until he was lying on his back on the couch, still connected to her right at the throat. His mouth worked its way down the taut muscle connecting her shoulder to her neck. Moving slowly, her thighs parted on either side of him and his hold on her turned more desperate. He pulled back and tightened his jaw as he contemplated the growing urgency to stop. Already. Her breath was coming in shallow, her fingers twisting into his scalp. In an attempt to slake the growing desire to have more of her, he bit down on her shoulder, soft at first, then harder when she responded with the tiniest gasp.

"Sorry," he breathed out against her, trying to relax his grip, but not quite able to let her go.

She shook her head, and there was a little hitch in her draws. Soft hair brushed against him as she shifted her weight and peppered his neck and jaw with a few rapid kisses before she leaned back to look him in the eye; her own gaze flooded with black. "Don't you dare."

Then the front door swung open, Shawn walked in and closed the rain out.

For Daryl, the next several seconds seemed to last ages. He somehow had plenty of time to realize everything that had prevented them from noticing headlights converging on the farm; the rain, a little lightning in the distance, making flashes from the window something to be ignored, and of course, they were too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to anything else.

For an uncomfortable moment, Shawn didn't see them. Beth had stiffened in his arms the moment that the front door opened, but as the seconds went on and still her brother didn't notice them. She trembled, lying on top of him in the heavy, dim light.

Shawn walked into the room, but clearly hadn't been expecting to find his sister there, so it took him a few breathless heartbeats to glance at the couch, "Beth?" he called into the house, eyes sticking to the staircase, but not for long enough.

Then he saw them.

"Shawn," Beth's voice was breathless and pleading. She tugged her shirt back into place and climbed off of him rapidly, almost losing her balance and falling flat on her face on the ground.

Beth's brother wore an expression, like he was inches from a shout, but couldn't decide on what expletive was best suited. Finally his voice did leave him, more a growl or a whine than language. He covered his face and turned into the door a moment. "Oh, holy shhh…" he dug his thumbs into screwed-shut eyes and turned back around to face the pair of them. Daryl climbed to his feet, not sure what to do with his guilty hands. He couldn't think of anything to say or do. The only urge he had was to take the girl and run for it, but he knew he couldn't do that.

"ARE YOU SHITTING ME?!" Shawn finally hollered, motioning to Daryl and Beth with one wild hand.

Swallowing, Beth closed her eyes and only managed to get a quick puff of breath, "Shawn, I didn't want anyone to find out like this."

"Well, _yeah_!" He balked at the pair of them.

"I mean I wanted to tell you myself," she added firmly, "Just, not _yet_."

"Well, why the hell not Beth? No wait—don't tell me, is _this_ why you were out wandering around that night that I shot this son of a bitch?!"

"Yeah, Shawn, I was goin' to meet Daryl and he was comin' to find me." No point in anything but the truth now.

Spinning his back to them again, Shawn turned his face up to the ceiling. "You must think we're such _morons_!" Right then, Shawn seemed to decide that it wasn't really his sister who he wanted to talk to about this. He whirled on Daryl, closing the distance between them in a couple of quick strides to get right up into his face. "How could you do this? My dad _trusts_ you—and she's a _kid_!"

Gritting his teeth, Daryl stared Shawn down, feeling a boiling caustic mix of self-loathing and defensive reflexes churning together inside of him.

With visible heat in her face, Beth pushed her way between the two of them, pressing Shawn back a step with one none-too-gentle hand. "Hey! He's hard enough on himself as it is. You think we like sneakin' around? It sucks, Shawn. We ain't doin' it for fun, we're doing it 'cause we thought you might act like an ass if you knew! So far, doesn't seem like I was wrong about that, _and I ain't been a kid for a long time._" As she spoke her last words, her voice shook. She was starting to get too angry.

Nearly there himself, Daryl shoved it aside roughly in his mind and found his voice; he even managed to speak with a little conviction. "Shawn. I know this has gotta look real bad from where you stand, but I promise, I ain't—"

Unfortunately, Daryl didn't get to finish before Shawn's fist connected with his jaw.

"SHAWN!"

There was a sustained ringing in Daryl's head. Not a lot of pain, just the shock of anger that always followed a blow, especially one that he hadn't expected.

_Well ya shoulda expected it, jackass._ _No more than what's deserved._

He wasn't done clearing the fuzz out of his head from the first blow when a second one connected right with his eye.

"Shawn, _stop_!"

Daryl shook it off in a couple of strides. The kid wasn't much of a boxer, that was for sure. It was already clear that he'd hurt his wrist the first time around, keeping too much of a bend in it. He blinked back the dizziness, and looked up at the siblings. Shawn was struggling to get to Daryl, while Beth hung onto one shoulder, refusing to let go.

"S'okay," Daryl rubbed at his jaw, "Let him work it out." But he found himself shifting his stance and moving so that the couch was between them.

"I ain't gonna let him work it out on your _face_!" Beth's ponytail flipped as she yanked her brother backwards with all her strength. "Stop it, this is stupid!" On the last word, Shawn finally managed to get free and come swinging back at Daryl again.

Anticipating that this kid could get wily with his weight, Daryl scrambled for the front door. He threw himself out into the storm and down the front steps. Once his boots splashed into the mud he turned back around, no intentions of leaving. He wasn't going to do that to Beth, but he figured her mother would appreciate them relocating outside so as not to put any of her furniture at risk of injury.

He was also going to contain himself, so as not to put her son at risk of injury either.

Shawn came barreling after him in seconds, sliding down the stairs and straight into Daryl a lot harder than he'd expected. With a grunt as the air was knocked out of him, Daryl hit the mud, but managed to clamber back up to his feet, before Shawn could take advantage of getting him to the ground. He kept retreating in a circle, as Shawn came at him again and again, unpracticed fists telegraphing every movement like crazy, while Daryl did his best to avoid them. He couldn't always manage to do it very successfully, the mud tripped him up and the rain got in his eyes, but Shawn was having the same problem.

For a few minutes they scrambled in the rain, pointlessly, without words besides the occasional obscenity.

He was just starting to wonder where Beth had gone when a loud, sharp blast cut through the air and both of them froze.

Standing on the last step of the porch, Beth held one arm up straight above her head, clutching a pistol which she'd clearly just fired into the air.

"Beth, what the hell?!" shouted Shawn, hands over his ears.

"Ya done?!" she shouted, approaching them at a march through the rain, Shawn actually backed up a couple of feet from his sister, but she sped up to get right in his face, "We're gonna _talk_ about this, Shawn. Use _words_."

He took a wily step away from the gun as the barrel flipped in his direction from her unsure grip, "Whoa, careful!"

"Now you _sit_ and talk," with one hand she reached into his coat pocket and snatched his keys.

"Hey!"

"In case you try and take off," she twisted her arm up her back with the keys still in her grip, walking backwards, the other hand help the gun down by her thigh

"WHERE'D YOU GET A GUN!?" demanded Shawn.

"Oh," Beth glanced down at the weapon, like she'd forgotten she had it, "I bought it for Maggie a couple of weeks ago. Said she wanted one. I thought it'd be a good birthday present… well, birthday and Christmas, it was expensive, but I knew she wanted it." Daryl saw her slip his keys into her back pocket and then shift the gun over into her left hand.

"You ain't never even fired the bean-bag gun before."

"It's kinda intuitive, Shawn," Beth rolled her eyes at him.

"What happened to, _'I'd just scream and shoot myself in the foot?'_" Shawn imitated her voice, but didn't look like he was quite out of angry territory yet, his teeth still ground down on one another between phrases and he was shooting Daryl murderous glances.

"I can't help it if you're easy," Beth locked eyes with her brother as she moved past him and slipped her hand into Daryl's, leading him back to the porch.

All three of them were soaked, stray locks of Beth's hair clung to her neck and face, her shirt hung heavy off her petite frame. Shawn and Daryl shook off on the porch, still watching one another with either wariness or loathing.

"Shoot," Beth sighed, "Len and Javier probably heard that… I gotta go tell 'em it was nothin'." She turned and looked her brother square in the eye. "If I run off for a few minutes are you two gonna start hitting each other again?"

"I didn't do no hittin'," grumbled Daryl, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Good point—_Shawn_."

"Hey—it's how _he_ solves things, ain't it?" Shawn gestured roughly towards Daryl, "What happened with Dave anyway—_I mean what really happened_?" He glowered at them, wiping a stream of rainwater off his face.

"You ain't the first person who caught us," Daryl seethed, half daring Shawn to take a swing at him again.

The looked on Shawn's face was a mixture of rage and revulsion as he snorted and turned away again.

Beth shot Daryl a look, "Dave saw and tried to blackmail us."

At that Shawn's face started to soften, but not enough, there was still deep suspicion in the way his brow furrowed at Daryl, as if he could tell they were sparing him details. "Alright."

"_Sit_ down," said Beth sharply. She disappeared into the house.

Without really thinking about it, Daryl followed her advice, letting himself fall into one of the chairs on the porch. The rain was beginning to ease up, but a small waterfall still flowed off the edge of the roof, splashing on the railing and the stairs. Shawn watched him with eyes like daggers for a few minutes then sat down in the chair opposite, looking like he still wasn't sure that there was any better option in the world that mussing up Daryl's face. Shawn's knuckles were as swollen from bad punching as they would be from good, particularly the smaller two. Daryl had felt that he leaned into them too much. Boy didn't know how to fight worth balls.

It took Beth a few minutes to put Maggie's birthday present away and get her good coat for the rain, but neither of them spoke in all that time. She reemerged from the house already falling into a jogging pace, and barely paused as she passed them. "Fine," she snapped, yanking her hood up and sweeping her long ponytail inside her coat, "You don't gotta talk, but you better not fight."

They watched her disappear into the fog. Daryl fought the knee-jerk reaction to follow after her, but he knew she wouldn't like it. She wanted him and her brother to get past this. Problem was, Daryl was no good at this kind of thing. It'd never come up before. If someone disliked him to _violence_, then fine, to hell with them. It was a new experience to try and work through and come to a place of cooperation with someone who'd just been tossing sloppy haymakers at his head.

Shawn didn't look much like he wanted to say anything either. But Beth was right. They couldn't just sit here pissed at each other. Though it went against a lot of what Daryl had cultivated in himself, he knew that one common way to win someone over was to start agreeing with them, even when they were trying hard to fight you. As a kid, he'd seen his mom try it on his dad when she'd had enough. It sorta worked.

If he was being totally honest with himself, there were a few things that he and Shawn could agree on. For one thing, they both cared about Beth. For another, they both knew that Daryl wasn't good enough for her.

"I wanna know," Shawn started sharply after a few more minutes of Daryl trying to collect his thoughts, "At what point did you figure _'what the hell?'_ when did you decide that you didn't care that you work for my dad, and that he trusts you; you were gonna turn around and betray all that anyway?"

Rhetorical question, but Daryl wouldn't have gotten the chance to respond anyway because Shawn wasn't done.

"When did you decide that it didn't matter to you that she's a _teenager,_ who's been sheltered her whole life? I mean—I know that's not fair to her, but it's _true_. She used to shriek at me all the time that I was overprotective. Maybe I was, but _this_ is why. I knew it was only a matter of time before somebody tried to take advantage of her." Shawn swore into his hands, rubbing at his face. He looked back up at Daryl darkly, shaking his head. "I just can't believe it was _you._ You didn't seem like a creep."

How did she expect him to do this? He was much better at defending himself with his hands. He'd rather Shawn kept charging him like a drunken bull than have to sit here and listen to this. "Look man… you gotta give your sister more credit than _that_." He stood up, feeling hot around the back of his neck in spite of the raindrops cutting their way under his clothes and over his spine. "_Hell_, give me more credit than that," he snorted.

"Give me one good reason why I should?"

"'Cause you don't know a damn thing 'bout it!" So much for agreeing with him. "Y'all treat her like a child." He stressed his hands behind his head, trying to rein it back in, but he was mad. However foolish and clumsy the boy might be, Shawn was being an unreasonable ass. "I did too, 'til I learned better. It ain't even me ya should be talkin' to. Beth's the one who knows how to explain. I _barely_ keep it t'gether under the best conditions."

"You're tryin' to tell me it's _her_ fault?" Shawn was on the edge of his seat, ready to jump up again.

"It ain't her fault—it's _mine_." He thumped his chest, right over the healed bruise where Shawn had shot him. "I'll own it. Think to myself that maybe I never shoulda come here. I coulda stayed away. Or _run_."

"Then why didn't you?!" "'Cause she said it'd hurt her! I can't _do_ that."

"Did it ever cross your mind that it'd hurt her a lot more to have you stick around?" "Only every damn day!" Daryl shouted.

For a few seconds, Shawn didn't move or speak, his gaze searched Daryl. Through the foggy anger and grating tension, it crossed Daryl's mind that Shawn might have something of his sister's or his mother's gift inside of him, buried. He could see the gears working in his eyes, dark like his mothers, judgmental, unlike his sister's.

"Listen… you don't gotta tell me I'm trash who don't deserve your sister. I'm well aware. All I can say in my defense is that I didn't plan nothin'. I never tried to take advantage of no one—and I don't think that'd be a risk with Beth, anyway. She ain't nearly as naïve as ya seem to think." He shot Shawn a warning look. It was his turn to say his peace. "She _handled_ Dave. Then, it was my turn and I handled him like an animal, 'cause… needed to happen." He growled the last part. "I didn't plan on any of it. There wasn't some _moment_ when I figured I might as well chase after the farmer's daughter. It happened. I didn't want to stop it, and for that I got somethin' to answer for."

"Hell yeah, you do," muttered Shawn, but Daryl could sense the waning hostility. He wasn't about to take another swing at him, at least.

His throat constricted a little over the next words, but with a shallow breath he was able to push them out. "I care about her… more'n I ever imagined."

Jaw going visibly taut and eyes hard, for a moment it didn't look like Shawn was taking him at face value. He leaned back in his chair, hands stuffed into the front of his jacket as he continued to search Daryl with a look.

"T'hell with ya. Can't get rid of me. I ain't goin' nowhere; not 'til your sister kicks my ass to the curb."

* * *

**After a lot of thought, I really started to like the idea of segmenting the 'reveal' so to speak. So now, Shawn knows and they've got to deal. I hope everyone is enjoying the story! I love hearing from you all, so don't hesitate to leave a review or send me a pm if you feel so inclined.**

**Much love and peace!**

**Drowning Man - U2**


	27. Prove Me

**I love you all so much. I'm trying to be good. I really want to be a grown-up and a lawyer and I should probably exercise and eat right while I'm at it, but then sometimes I just want to eat all the brownies and write fanfiction... **

**This story has been so much fun to write. I'm really overwhelmed by all the nice people who're enjoying it, thanks so very damn much to everyone who's put me on their favorite's list, who's following and those rockstars to recommend it to other bethyler pals.**

**I don't know how much longer it's going to go on, but I finally got the synod written pretty much right up to the very end. I'm no longer making word-count guesses, because I'm always wrong, so why even bother? It'll be a while longer though, that's for sure.**

* * *

Beth had a long, chilled, squishy walk through the mud and grass to the nightwatch; it gave her time to breathe and think. She wanted to come up with some clever way to convince Shawn to side with them; but all she could think of was that he was going to be especially pissed when he found out that Maggie had known from the start.

She could hear him already, _Maggie? For how long—what do you mean over a month?!_

Groaning, she pulled her jacket tighter around herself and sped up, veering off the muddy trail and cutting through the thick grasses.

Approaching the nightwatch, she was distracted by all these thoughts and so she didn't notice that it was deserted until she'd come right upon the empty chair and recently repaired fence. Realizing that all was silent except for the chattering rain, she stopped short and swiveled her head around careful, pinching the hood of her jacket shut tight under her chin. "Ya kiddin' me?" she muttered outloud to herself after a few prolonged, uncomfortable minutes of scanning the area.

Len and Javier were gone. Maybe they'd never even gone to their post in the first place—she couldn't be sure, she hadn't seen them off. They knew they were supposed to be there, and she'd trusted them to show up for their shift. The farmhands didn't usually check in with Otis first, did they? She was fairly certain that whoever was on the nightwatch usual just went to the shed, got the bean-bag gun and took their place by the fence, unless otherwise told.

Determined to give them the benefit of the doubt, Beth turned away from the fence and sped up her pace to jog to the shed. If the gun was gone, it would be an indication that Len and Javier might have elected to walk around the farm as a patrol, at least every hour or so. That made sense, she rationalized; the only reason that nightwatch had been set up in a static place on the grounds was because the fence had been a vulnerable spot. Since it had been completely reconstructed, it wasn't as weak any more; there were other parts of the farm where the pack might enter.

As the rain picked up, she bolted the last few dozen yards, nearly tripping on the muddy ground. Her jeans were soaked, water leaked into her boots. She made it to the shed, fumbling with Otis' keys in the front pocket of her jacket. She unlocked and swung the door open, to find the beanbag gun in it's place, empty.

With a sigh, she snatched it up, resting the weapon over one shoulder; she grabbed a couple of beanbags and put them into the front of her jacket with Otis' keys.

Len and Javier weren't on nightwatch. No one was keeping an eye out for the pack. "Great."

She'd been so concerned that the gunshot might panic them. With another sigh, she stood a moment in the dry shed, watching the rain pummel harder against the ground. She bounced on her toes a moment, preparing to run back to the house. The slightest whiff of GSR hit her, as she breathed into her chilled hands. Rolling her eyes at herself, Beth grit her teeth and then forced herself to march back out into the storm.

She wasn't sure why she'd gone straight for Maggie's gun.

Her brother and her… she wanted to call him her boyfriend, but somehow the words slipped when she thought of them. _Daryl is my boyfriend. Daryl is my boyfriend?_ Shawn and Daryl were fighting. Well, it was more like her brother was trying to inflict bodily harm on her… her Daryl. The whole thing made her seethe, more than anything else. She'd just wanted to snap them out of it as quickly as possible. Whatever they needed to feel or say—fine, but she couldn't abide it coming to blows. All the same, she'd felt pretty foolish when she remembered the other farmhands, close enough to hear the shot.

…And then it turned out they were shirking their duties.

_My first day runnin' this place and I gotta fire someone?_ Sure, her father hadn't expressly given her that power, but she was tempted to try it out and see if the judgment stuck.

Her stomach dropped as a knee-jerk reaction kicked in. She _still_ ought to give Len and Javier the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they had a good reason not to be at nightwatch. She glared up at the sky as it flashed silver in the distance, looking away when rain dripped into her eyes.

_Or maybe they just didn't want to sit outside in the rain._ She could empathize, but she was still pissed.

In returning to the house, she couldn't immediately assess the conditions of her brother and Daryl. If they had been talking, they fell silent once she was in view. The two of them stood on the porch, she couldn't decide who looked more intense. Their clothing was drenched and darkened by the water, hair stuck on their foreheads and eyes still narrow on one another, though it was dark out. They were shivering from the cold, but for some reason they hadn't made a move back into the house. They both looked like they were on the defensive. Daryl was especially ragged. His clothing and his face a little mussed from fending off Shawn's fists.

When Beth stepped onto the porch, Daryl turned away, hand rubbing at his goatee nervously. Shawn, on the other hand, was still, regarding his younger sister with a taut jaw, and no less anger than she'd first seen in his face when he discovered them.

"We got a problem," her voice was barely audible through the patter of the rain on the roof.

She could tell from the confusion on his face that Shawn probably hadn't been able to hear exactly what she said, but he could tell something was wrong, nonetheless.

"What's going on?" Daryl glanced over his shoulder at her, the rest of his body following as he took in the sight of her with the beanbag gun.

"Javier and Len took off," she shrugged in exasperation against the weight of the gun on her shoulder, "No one is on nightwatch."

Shawn laughed shortly, an curse hiding between breaths.

But Daryl was looking past her, blue eyes sharp, "Looks like we might have a bigger problem," he strode past Beth.

She whirled around, catching his arm in her hand to follow him into the rain. Momentarily, she was well aware of her brother's eyes on them, but didn't care; then she saw what had caught Daryl's eye and immediately forgot all about Shawn and his stupid, pointless dislike of her boyfriend.

Lou was stumbling quickly toward the house. Her eyes fell on him at the exact moment that his shadowy form filled out from the mist and rain, so they could more fully see the details of his condition. He clutched his right wrist in a strained grip, fingers slipping as dark blood threatened to gush.

"Y'alright man?"

Beth jogged to keep up with Daryl as he approached his fellow farmhand. "What happened?!" but in seconds they were only feet from him, and she could guess. Both his arms, but particularly his right one were marked with scratches and bites.

"The pack is tryin' to get into the barn where the newest calves are," Lou groaned through grinding teeth, "I heard the commotion from my trailer, tried to scare 'em off, but they're all riled up." Even as he spoke, his hand slipped and a thick trickle of dark blood poured through shaking fingers.

"We gotta get you help." Automatically, Beth handed the beanbag gun to Daryl and fished the beanbags out of her jacket, dropping them into one large hand.

Daryl only nodded and stuffed most of the beanbags into his out pocket, loading one of them into the gun. He turned his back to them and started at a run towards the calves' barn. Beth checked her pocket, she didn't have her own car keys, but she had Shawn's. "I'm borrowing your car," she told him.

Shawn stared, pale-faced and dumbfounded at the scene, like he didn't know where he ought to stand, or what he ought to say.

"Shawn? Go _help_ him!" she motioned after Daryl and slapped her brother hard on the arm as she hurried past him.

"Right!" Shawn seemed to snap out of his stupor with the tiniest, almost imperceptible shake of his head, "Do you need—?" but whatever he thought she might need, he must have decided she was covered, because instead of finishing his thought, he tore after Daryl.

Lou didn't need to be told what to do, but he did need a little help getting to Shawn's car. It was hard to determine precisely how much blood he'd lost, with the rain washing much of it into the grass. From the way he shook and stumbled, she imagined that he'd lost enough to experience dizziness. She helped him into the passenger seat, clicking him into place like he was a small child.

Lou cussed and leaned the seat back all the way, staring up at the ceiling of the car with pained eyes.

"Hey—while I'm driving, you gotta call animal control, alright?" Beth dropped her cellphone in the cup-holder between them, after she sat down and closed the rain outside. "Do ya think you can make it sound nice and urgent?"

"Oh, hell yeah," Lou groaned between his teeth. With shaky fingers he fumbled with the phone, pressing his injured arm firmly into his chest.

* * *

They weren't even within sight of the chaos yet and Daryl could already hear the unstable, guttural whine of the calves. They had little more than a few inches of trembling wooden panels to protect them from vicious, snapping jaws. The dogs growled and yelped as they worked to dig their way through the mud and crushed vegetation under the side of the barn. They weren't making much headway, the posts of the barn were buried a little into the ground, but the dogs were determined.

Even when they came within sight of the little barn, it was too dark and the rain was too jagged for them to peer through it and see the scene properly. Daryl couldn't get a count on how many dogs there were. He saw some big ones, at least up to his knee and a few smaller ones skirting around the edges of the pack. Three of them were digging at the bottom of the barn, while a few others prowled restlessly nearby. Glimmering eyes looked back at him, not caring.

"They ain't afraid of us," Shawn warned, in a pant. He caught up to Daryl and reached for the beanbag gun.

Ignoring him, Daryl took aim into the center of the pack.

It was dark, and with all of their mangy shapes moving and shifting through the rain and mud, it was hard to pick a target. Maybe it wouldn't even matter if he actually hit one of them, maybe the wind of it alone, the threat, would drive them off. It was an overly optimistic thought that was dashed away from him the second he pulled the trigger.

A wild yelp told him that he'd managed to strike one of the dogs, but rather than running for the woods as he'd hoped. They merely fanned outwards as a group, snapping and barking, then drew back in tight, ears back as they showed Daryl and Shawn snarling jaws.

Loading another beanbag into the gun, Daryl glared at all the pairs of eyes cutting through the rain at him. "Maybe we can drew 'em off," he muttered.

"With what?" Shawn was still reaching for the gun.

Reluctantly, Daryl passed it over. "We gotta keep our distance. If we get too close… might get gnawed on, just like Lou." He shoved a few of the beanbags into the front of Shawn's hoodie while the kid took aim.

The barn was holding up alright, but it wouldn't take much for one of the littler dogs to carve out a crack in the loose, muddy wooden panels and squeeze inside. They needed to get them away from the calves.

Shawn didn't fire the gun, but seemed to be realizing the same dilemma that Daryl had. The dogs _weren't_ afraid of them. The rain was bad enough that Daryl imagined that the ditches and some of the lower lands in the woods were probably flooded again, just like when he'd gone to get Penny out of there. Chances were, the dogs had been driven in the direction of the farm because it was the highest ground they could get to. They weren't about to run back out into the flood. They were vicious and frightened, but not of people.

"_Mark!_" the gun dropped a foot as Shawn saw the old dog making his way swiftly towards them. The farmdog was wet, but not soaked; he'd probably just made his way out of his usual shelter. His wiry coat was bristled as he drew near the pack. The old dog was still a ways off, but all the same, he was too close.

The feral dogs had seen him, some of them pulled away, barking aggressively. All at once one of them bolted straight for Mark. Shawn fired the beanbag gun and caught the dog before it could get too close. It yelped and scrambled wildly in the mud.

Two others broke away from the pack and rushed forward, at first stopping to nip at the injured dog before it rushed away from them. Mark was the easier target still, old and already hostile as he was. He bared his jaws and the other two dogs were on him before Daryl could blink.

"Mark!" Shawn was fumbling, trying to reload the gun.

He didn't even realize what he was doing right away. Instinctively, Daryl took the long way around to the dogfight, so as not to pass right through where the pack still prowled. Mark was being shaken and tugged by the feral dogs, pulling him towards the rest of the pack. "Hey!" Daryl beat them off with a couple of well-placed stomps; careful not to let his hands get too near their teeth. It took longer than he wanted it to, but nothing could be done about that. The feral dogs each took a turn trying to sink their teeth into him, before he convinced them that he was too big for them.

By the time he was able to wrestle Mark away, the old dog's barking and yelps had been reduced to whimpers. His mouth hung open and snarled, but his face and the front and back legs on his left side were bloodied. He held the dog tight, trying to back away quickly.

Shawn had finally managed to reload the shotgun when Daryl got back.

"Is he alright?" Shawn's eyes were wide on the old dog in Daryl's arms.

"Can't really tell—he knows he hurt," an idea was coming to him, but he didn't want to leave Shawn alone with the pack. "Alright—you take Mark up to the house, get him comfy, and get a car—Otis' truck if you can find the keys. Drive right up as close as you can, maybe some honking and headlights will scare 'em off."

At first, Shawn looked like he was going to protest against this plan, but in a half-second, he seemed to realize that they didn't have anything better. Swallowing, he nodded and handed the beanbag gun back to Daryl, gently taking the old dog from him.

The rain made it impossible to watch Shawn all the way up to the house. "Hurry your ass, kid," he grumbled.

Alone with the pack, Daryl crouched low on the ground and aimed the gun at the mass of them. They were still trying to get into the barn, but unfortunately, it seemed that they were now acutely aware of his presence and the threat he posed. Most of them either stalked or trembled with bestial fury, snarling mouths full of fangs and gums while luminescent eyes glared back at him.

They prowled near; in fact, they were too close. Daryl backed up, ready to fire again and hit the closest dog, a particularly aggressive one that had abandoned the barn entirely. No longer interested in its contents. The dog's twitching ears were back as it crept up. One of them let out a bark in his direction, which got the others doing the same thing.

Keenly aware of the time it took to reload the beanbag gun, Daryl backed up even further; he didn't want to force himself into a situation where he would have to use the weapon again.

In a few minutes, the stand-off hadn't altered much. The dogs were still grouped together, pacing closer and then further away, but with eyes always on him. The more aggressive dog would still let out a low bark every few minutes. At least they hadn't gone back to bothering the barn wall. He didn't feel nervous, he noted. He'd been around wild animals often enough. Even with a whole pack of them—they were just beasts. He felt strangely calm.

When the barking become more incessant he was half-tempted to growl back at them; aside from the minor annoyance, he didn't think anything of being crouched down in the mud, staring down dogs, still and silent.

Unwanted, the memory of waiting for Merle after the night of their ill-fated gun-running scheme came back to him. A surge of anger came with the memory of being stuck outside, perfectly still and soaking wet in a storm. Maybe he hadn't quite forgiven Merle for not telling him he was alive yet. That was the part that made him seethe. He didn't care so much about the elements themselves. He was used to cold, wet, hungry... he was used to being left out in the wild.

_It's where ya belong, boy._ Daryl shook off the anger, blinked away the rain. He ran a hand over his face. He wasn't quite back from the memories when headlights flooded the scene. For a fraction of a second he had forgotten his own plan. His heart gave a jolt as the bright lights made him think first of law enforcement.

He jumped up to his feet and automatically covered his ears as Shawn laid on the horn. Mud splattered up from the tires; Shawn rolled right towards the pack, stopping short with a jerk. As Daryl had hoped, the pack scattered in front of the headlights, their mangy shadows speeding away. They bolted in all directions, one of them passing so close to Daryl that he smelled it's foul breath and felt the wind of it rock past him.

Shawn swung the front door of the car open and leaned out. "Come on—get it!"

For a moment, Daryl couldn't think why he'd do that. Then he remembered and the sound of the rain spattering on the ground was all the louder in his ears. Even if he waded out into the duck pond right then, he probably wouldn't actually be any wetter.

He came around the side of the truck, sliding into the passenger seat. "It worked!" Shawn said, sounding relieved.

Daryl closed the door and caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview. The water had colored his hair black. He tried to push it back in soggy handfuls; streams of water trickled through his fingers. His skin looked ghostly-white from the cold.

Now that there were no imminent dog attacks to distract them, Daryl and Shawn fell back into the uncomfortable silence that had grabbed a hold of them earlier.

Before Lou stumbled towards them all bloody Daryl had been contemplating everything that had spilled out of his mouth. Shawn had yet to really acknowledge him. He should have kept his mouth shut. He shouldn't have said out-loud how much he felt for that girl. Shawn was bond to misunderstand, or maybe just think that Daryl was lying outright. "Mark okay?"

"He's hurt, but it don't look too bad. I think he's just old. It's a bit of a shock for him. He's resting in the house." Shawn said, voice a little thick. He starting to roll the car forward slowly, heading towards the chicken coop.

"Good."

"…he's a tough old guy, he'll be alright." Shawn parked the car again, keeping at eye out on the chicken coop, making sure that the pack hadn't gone after their other animals, now that they'd scared them away from the calves.

Back to the strained silence, but it only lasted as long as it took Shawn to awkwardly glance out the back window, then at Daryl. He cleared his throat, "Can I have the gun?"

Daryl hadn't realized that he was still clutching the beanbag gun. He looked down at the weapon and for a moment wanted to refuse. What was the kid going to do about it? With a sigh, he handed it over. "Just don't shoot me again, alright?"

Shawn smirked, "Maybe later," he hissed out a short laugh.

"I'm dead serious kid. Ya shoot me with that thing again, and I will beat your ass. No more defensive strategy, ya hear?"

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Shawn. "Like you don't deserve it," he snorted, frowning out of one side of his mouth as he scratched at a little stubble on his chin. He couldn't seem to look at Daryl straight on. "Look—I won't say anything to Hershel or my mom. I don't like it. I _might_ have to shoot you," he pointedly tucked the gun out of Daryl's reach by the driver-side door, "but if my sister… if she's really… _sure_ about you. I'll back off for now. Until it seems like shooting you once ain't made the point clear enough."

"That's all I'm asking," muttered Daryl, "You don't gotta trust me. Hell, I wouldn't. But you owe her your trust."

"Just don't go thinkin' I'm on your side," Shawn warned. "It's weird. I hope she gets wise and ditches you. Understand?"

Daryl could only nod, still looking down at his hands.

"But, I know, it's her call. Not mine." From the grinding teeth between his words, Daryl was pretty sure that Shawn hated admitting this. "So, there's your challenge. Prove me an ass."

"What?" grumbled Daryl.

"I'm saying you gotta prove me wrong." Shawn smirked, teeth still tight together, just a twitch away from a snarl. "Make me eat everything I said about you. Be good to her. Or else."

* * *

**That's all for now, folks! Hopefully I'll get some free time in between pages and pages of torts and property law and I'll have a new chapter up real quick. Like a bunny.**

**Guns and Horses - Ellie ****Goulding**


	28. Alibis

**I'm so sorry it took me a little longer than planned to get this up. I'm so busy right now I can't even come up with a clever analogy to explain how busy I am. I freakin' love you guys though, thank you all so much for reading! **

**...And typical of my life, I've actually gotta run right now, but first I want to throw this chapter up onto the internets! **

**This chapter is a little longer than is normal for me, so maybe that can serve as a gesture of ****sorry-ness for my suddenly hectic life taking me far, far away from normal writing-time.**

* * *

"Ya gonna say something?" Beth rested her chin against the heel of her hand, her fingers splayed over her nose and obscuring one eye, the regard she fixed on her brother was sleepy.

The siblings sat across from one another at the kitchen table. Daryl was a little removed, sitting up on the counter watching both of them, head slightly bowed as if he was tempted to drift off, but through his fringe she could see that his eyes were still sharp. Out the window behind him, the sun rose, making the edges of his silhouette blush with warm light.

They had been up all night. Beth returned from taking Lou to the hospital about the same time that animal control showed up. For two hours, they worked to track down and round up as many of the dogs as they could. They'd only just left. Beth was grateful they'd come in the middle of the night like that, and that they'd taken the time to reassure her that they would try and rehabilitate the animals.

The whole night had been long and cold. She'd felt close to tears for hours, but tried to convince herself that it was mostly exhaustion. Shawn's critical looks cutting back and forth between them hadn't helped much. Whenever she couldn't stand looking at his disappointed snarl, she'd glance up at Daryl instead and feel a little better about getting caught.

She'd just finished telling Shawn all about the night that she and Daryl had met, and about convincing him to come to the farm. She'd left out everything about Merle and the guns; didn't want to overwhelm the poor guy. Even when she'd skirted close to the topic, she'd noticed that Daryl looked calm over her brother's shoulder. He trusted her to know how much was too much, never tried to interrupt her, or even give her a knowing look. "Come on Shawn, out with it," Beth let out a sigh that turned into a yawn half-way through.

"Nah, I ain't gonna say anything to Hershel," grumbled Shawn.

"Well, that's fine, but I actually meant that you've just been sitting here like a rock since I started talking. I don't even know how you feel about any of it," Beth pointed out with a self-conscious shrug, she looked down at her fingers and then over at Daryl who was being at least as withdrawn as her brother; he seemed content to let them hash it out over the kitchen table.

"Does it matter?" muttered Shawn, not quite able to avoid glaring at the table.

"Not really." Since he was making her admit it, "It doesn't change anything. Of course it _matters_ to me, but if you still think we shouldn't be together, then you're just wrong. It won't make a difference, but I still care."

Sighing heavily into his hands, Shawn rubbed at his face. "I don't know. I guess it's different from how I thought. The way you explain it. But you're never gonna convince me that lying about it is the right way to go."

"Talk to Maggie. She's better at explaining how that bit of it makes sense than I am," grumbled Beth, "I don't like lyin' either, but it's what we gotta do."

Shawn rolled his eyes, a little color in his face. He was pretty annoyed when he found out that Maggie had known basically from the beginning. At the same time, Beth was pretty sure that one of the things that made her brother calm down was learning that big sister _liked_ Daryl.

When she'd returned to the house to find her brother and Daryl in chilly silence on the porch, she'd worried for a split second. There was no time to speculate about what have been said, because as always seemed the case, disaster was waiting to punch them in the gut.

Once she'd gotten Lou situated at the hospital and was sure he was going to be alright she'd had the whole frantic drive back to the farm to think about a million things at once. Whether or not what had happened with Lou was her fault—she decided that it _was_, but only on account of the farm being her responsibility this weekend. If her dad had been there, it still would have happened, but it would have been his fault. It couldn't be helped now, in any case. She just had to deal with whatever happened next. She'd seethed about Len and Javier leaving their posts, but only long enough to curse them silently, sigh and move on. There was nothing she could do about that either. She should have checked to make sure they went on watch when they were supposed to.

She'd worried about the dogs. She'd always loved animals, she didn't like thinking about those feral dogs, roaming the forest, desperate and hungry, with nowhere to go to get out of the storm. She worried about what Daryl and Shawn might have to do to protect _their_ animals.

And, of course, she'd been loath to leave Daryl alone with her furious brother. Even when she was just running to the nightwatch, she'd felt nervous about it. She knew it was the right thing to do. He and Shawn needed to talk.

It seemed like it had been a good thing. Daryl was more confident now, less defensive.

And Shawn seemed… well… humble.

She just wasn't sure how far she could push it. "You gonna apologize for your behavior earlier?"

"Don't do that," Shawn groaned.

"Do what?" but she knew.

"Try and sound like mom. You're gettin' too good at it." Not all that far, apparently.

With a sigh, Beth got to her feet. "So, dad called you?" She'd insisted to her father that she'd be fine running things on her own. Admittedly she wasn't real surprised that he'd called her brother after all, but she was irritated; he knew she would resent it and yet he'd done it anyway.

"Yeah," said Shawn, not nearly as sheepishly as she thought he should be. "It kinda seemed like _mom_ insisted, to be honest."

"Well, I don't suppose I could convince you to head on back?" She knew before she finished speaking that it wasn't going to fly.

"I'm staying _right_ here. Y'all need a chaperon, that much is clear," grumbled Shawn.

She'd been afraid he'd be that way about it. She met Daryl's eyes, smiling apologetically, but he didn't react a jot to what Shawn said; his regard wrapped around her, making her feel warm and instantly closer to him in spite of everything. If he was disappointed that their time alone wasn't so much _alone _anymore, he didn't show it; maybe any disappointment he felt was outweighed by relief, at Shawn's acceptance of them, however reluctant it was.

Shawn wasn't going to stone them, or even say anything to her parents. Talking to him openly about everything that had happened felt similarly freeing as when she'd first begun to confide in Maggie. It was different with Shawn; he didn't make as much of an effort to understand as her sister did, but he wasn't trying to separate them or get in their way.

"So, what do we do?" Shawn looked like he didn't want to do anything but nap.

"Lou's hurt. Len and Javier are still missing." Beth had dreaded this moment. "It's a new day. Someone's gotta take care of this place."

For a moment, Shawn indulged in letting his head fall onto the table with a faint smack.

"Only Mark gets a day off," Beth couldn't quite manage to suppress a giggle at Her brother's overly dramatic reaction. The old dog was fast asleep in the guest room. Patricia would be furious to find him sleeping on the bed, but Beth figured he deserved a little bit of extra comfort after last night. "C'mon," Beth kicked the leg of Shawn's chair. "Dad sent you here and apparently you're gonna stick around, so I'm putting you to work. All of us. We got jobs to do."

* * *

As Daryl finished mucking out the stables he imagined a few colorful revenge scenarios, just for Len and Javier, who were still missing. At least Lou had a decent excuse for not being around, the other two farm hands were dead the next time Daryl got a hold of them. It was noon before they managed to get everything to a decent stopping point. He put his shovel and work gloves away, flexing his hands. The blood had pooled in his palms and fingers. He cracked his knuckles.

Beth appeared in the doorway of the shed, hair all mused and eyes bloodshot, her brother stumbled behind her, looking confused as to what he was doing following her anywhere. "That's the last of it," she offered him her hand.

It was such a simple, unconscious gesture, but Daryl was well-aware of every slight change in frame as he went to meet them. He wrapped his hand in hers'. Normally, he would worry about Shawn watching them with brotherly, overprotective disapproval, but he was too tired to care, and he was fairly certain that Shawn's observational skills were pretty shot. The kid couldn't stop blinking, as he yawned up at the sky.

He also worried about the fact that he was filthy, but he knew by now that Beth didn't mind all that. In this instant, she was just as covered in sweat and dirt as any of them. There were flecks of leaves and grass in her wild hair. Allowing himself this slight indulgence, he pulled a blade of grass out of her ponytail, then slipped his fingers through the blonde fall of hair and rubbed at the warm, tired muscles in her neck.

The three of them started back to the house. Daryl was too tired to say anything, and Beth looked like she was feeling about the same, but Shawn was a different story.

"As an almost-doctor, I'd just like to let you know that approximately four hours ago we crossed an exhaustion threshold that is the equivalent of .08 blood alcohol levels."

"So?" Beth shrugged at him.

"So, we shouldn't be operating heavy machinery. You're a task-master, little sister—err, task-mistress."

"Shawn."

"I'm tired, alright."

"We're all tired. Let's get some rest before we gotta do nightwatch," Beth's grip pulsed.

"Nightwatch?!" Shawn lamented through another yawn, "But they _caught_ the dogs!"

"Not all of them," Beth corrected him. "It doesn't think they'll come back here, after last night, but we can't just leave ourselves vulnerable. That's stupid. Reckless."

"How're we gonna do that with only three of us?"

"You got any friends?"

Shawn shook his head, grinning in a self-deprecating way as his sister rolled her eyes at him. "All my old pals are away at school. What about Jimmy?"

Beth shook her head, "I thought of that, but his grandma's not doin' so hot. I don't wanna take him away from the family this weekend. Just in case."

"You got any other friends who might wanna come do nightwatch? What about Minnie?" Shawn's face got a little red as he mentioned her.

Beth only glared at him.

"She's got eyes," said Shawn in his meager defense. "Other stuff too. She's got stuff." He laughed sleepily, "Alright, fine, let's just do it this way—You be on the clock from sundown until one or so, and then Daryl takes over, and I'll stay out there from sundown to sunup, to keep _both_ of you company on your respective shifts."

Daryl found his voice before Beth could give voice to whatever protests were so apparently dancing on the tip of her tongue. "Nah, I'll pull the all-nighter," he muttered. "You gotta drive back tomorrow, college-boy. Can't have you fallin' asleep at the wheel."

"How about _I_—" Beth started, but Daryl suspected that she was going to offer herself up for the full shift and he wasn't about to let that happen. Neither was her brother, it seemed.

"No," they both said in unison and with the same dead tone.

"Alright," Beth grinned, a little pink in the cheeks.

Unable to help smirking at her, Daryl just shook his head.

"I'll take the late shift though," said Beth quickly, cocking her head at her brother she added, "And I'll relieve you at midnight. You've got to get some sleep. Daryl's right. Besides that—I should go see Lou before visiting hours end."

"I'll sleep now," Shawn shrugged.

"We're _all_ going to sleep now," said Beth with a sigh as she took her first step onto the porch. "At least for a few hours," she added.

Their arms went taut between them as Daryl lingered in the dirt at the foot of the stairs. With uncertainty, he glanced up at the house. He'd just obeyed the pressure of her hand, hadn't really given any thought to where she was taking him. Now that they were back at the farmhouse he hesitated. Was she suggesting that he come inside to sleep? Where? …In her bed?

Beth gave him a bright blue glance of concern that softened in a few seconds, as she must have been reading his mind the way she did. Her soft pink lips closed and she blinked at him slowly, fighting the tiniest grin. "C'mon," she said softly.

He'd learned a while ago that he liked it when she told him to do something he'd already wanted to do. He'd never realized how much he held himself back before this farmgirl started calling him out on it.

"Wait—he's sleeping here?" Shawn sounded a touch more than just _unhappy_ at the notion.

"Well, yeah," Beth's shoulders fell as she rolled her eyes up to the sky, still smiling, she tugged Daryl up the steps of the porch and into the house.

Shawn started to stutter out an indignant response, but Beth cooled him with a look. "Shawn, it's _not really any of your business_, first off—but also, can't ya see how dead-tired we all are? You can rest assured that we'll _just_ be sleeping."

With an exertion of will-power, Daryl managed to avoid looking at Shawn for a response as he finally followed Beth into the house.

It seemed that Shawn's will had been defeated by his sister's. He hurried past them on the stairs, muttering under his breath about how he wouldn't be able to sleep under these conditions. From the way his eyes were still red and begging to close with every heavy step, Daryl doubted Shawn's sincerity very much. Sure enough, the kid never even made it to the shower and forgot to close his bedroom door.

When they passed by his room it was to see him sacked out with his boots still on, face-down in the pillow. Beth gently shut the door, and directed Daryl to a bathroom. She stopped at a linen cupboard on the way pulling out a t-shirt and flannel pants and a towel. She laid the items across his arms.

Even with the weight of too-many sleepless hours on her, sweat cutting into her hairline and polishing her face, she looked so pretty he couldn't help but stare at her, utterly silent. She stood in front of him for a moment, looking back at his face with a growing smile. "I'd uh... let you have the guest room, but Mark's in there," she folded her lips into her mouth, going very red.

"I'm pretty sure ya got more than one empty room 'round here," mumbled Daryl.

"Yeah, but, they ain't as nice as that one," she pointed to what Daryl had deduced was her bedroom door, words a little lazy with sleep. "Just come on in when you're ready."

For the first time in… well, he couldn't remember, Daryl had a good long stare at the bathroom mirror. The man looking back at him didn't look like he was dead-on-his-feet, but Daryl knew better. He'd been weighed down by a deep-in-the-bones tired for so many years. He didn't feel the same, these days, but that beaten man was still in there. She knew it, too.

Beth wanted him anyway. It wasn't just some way of rebelling; it wasn't an adolescent crisis. Maybe it wasn't even a mistake. It was real.

He'd tried not to entertain those doubtful thoughts, because he felt like he owed it to her to treat her like a full-grown woman who knew her own heart. In giving her that, he'd come to know her heart as well. And his own.

If she really thought he was capable of being something with her, he wouldn't question it.

If Shawn hadn't come the night before… If the pack hadn't attacked… If he and Beth could have been left to their own devices for as long as he needed to steady his racing heart and unwind his tongue, maybe he could have finally told her.

Maybe.

After getting out of the shower, he caught a glimpse of the mishmash of scars all over his back in the fogged up mirror. He felt the same wince, the same twisted hatred and shame, but it didn't scream right through his head, the way it had in the past. He'd always thought they were so ugly, and so obviously indicative of every sick memory that went along with every stripe. He'd gone well out of his way to avoid letting anyone see them in the past.

He'd let Beth see, the night that Penny went missing. Since that night, he must have touched and tasted her mouth a thousand times, but he could still remember ever tremor of flesh as she pressed her lips against one of the scars. He'd wanted her before that. He'd felt the pull towards her, as powerful as anything, but it wasn't until that moment that he could entertain the possibility that she might truly _see_ him and not recoil.

It had scared the hell out of him.

It still did, sometimes.

The clothing she'd conjured for him was mysteriously not as ill a fit as he would have thought. Maybe they were some old things of Hershel's. They were too big to be Shawn's, but too small to belong to Otis, unless he'd first worn them back when he was about sixty pounds lighter.

He left his boots outside the bedroom door. Tentative, but unwilling to do any different, Daryl entered Beth's room to find her sitting cross-legged up by her pillow, combing through her hair. The breeze front he opening door fluttered a newspaper clipping on the wall, prominent amongst a jumble of colored photographs of Beth and her friends, her horse and her family. It was the article about when Penny had gone missing. His stomach gave a little twist. They'd shown it to him when it first came out, but somehow he'd forgotten just how much of the page his picture took up. It was a shot that Shawn had taken on his phone sometime over that weekend. Daryl didn't even remember when it happened. His body was mostly turned away from the camera so the focus of the shot was on the farm, stretched out around him. The stitched wings on the back of his vest stood out under the sunlight.

Smiling when she saw what caught his eye, Beth gave up on taming her hair. "It's the least suspicious picture of you that I can put up," she explained quietly. Her expression turning a little sad. She dropped the comb on the nightstand and haphazardly tried to push her damp hair away from her face. "Let's sleep," she sighed and let herself fall.

Awkward, Daryl climbed onto the bed, one knee at a time. She took a hold of his arm, partially pulling him down beside her and partially climbing up the side of him to his shoulders. Still feeling slightly uncomfortable, Daryl fought against it by wrapping her up tight into his side and leaning back against the pillow in one swift movement that earned him the smallest squeal from Beth.

Her giggling was muffled from being tight up against his shirt. She nuzzled until she'd put her face into a comfortable spot right up against his shoulder, gripping into his forearm with little fingers that were stronger than they looked. He was still tense, but as the minutes stretched on and he focused on the shared breath between them, and how their heartbeats joined to the same rhythm, he gradually gave into the warmth and comfort of her and felt himself unwind.

"Daryl?" Beth murmured, not quite asleep, but still obviously trying not to wake him, if he was out that quickly.

"Hum?"

"…Last night… if Shawn didn't come? If Lou didn't get hurt? If the pack wasn't trying to attack the animals? If the whole world would just leave us alone, what do you think would have happened?"

When he didn't answer her, he felt her stop moving, stop drawing in air. Her little fingers curled into his forearm, tight across the front of her. She turned her face up to look at him.

He met her eyes, but his throat had formed a barrier at the back of his mouth. Words failed him, as they so often did.

He'd taken her chin gently in his fingers and tipped her mouth up to his before he could even try to form a rational, honest response to the question. Her sweet, soft lips were wet and trembling against his. As she'd been holding her breath, she gasped a little into his mouth when he deepened the kiss. He didn't like to leave her hanging like that, didn't like the uncertainty in her eyes. Even if it was only a split-second of doubt, he couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand that he was the cause of it.

The words were there, but he couldn't use them. Something inside of Daryl warned him that holding her and kissing her was only part of it. He needed to learn how to speak. But Rick's advice certainly came easier when he was drunk. At least for the moment, she didn't seem bothered that her guy was an awkward mute. She delved into his mouth, hands stroking his face and neck. She was flushed under every touch. The heat between them pulsed as he wrapped her tighter. For the first time, he didn't try to pull away as his want grew. He went still, except for his heaving chest, arms secured around her as she continued to kiss and nuzzle her way down his jaw.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang.

"Dammit all to hell."

Beth groaned, going limp on top of him. Her head fell in exasperation, skull connecting painfully with his chin. "Ouch. Sorry," she muttered, shaking with laughter as she rubbed her head.

From down the hallway Shawn cried out, "_SHIT, what do you WANT?!"_

Beth was blushing, overwarm and visibly bothered. Daryl imagined he probably looked about the same. He took a moment to gaze into her darkened blue eyes. Smiling apologetically, she unwound herself from him and tumbled out of bed, hurrying to see who was at the door.

By the time Daryl made it into the hallway, Beth had already answered the door. He couldn't see anything, but he could hear a man's voice and Beth's demure response.

Shawn stumbled into the hall ahead of Daryl, rubbing his face vigorously. He turned towards the top of the stairs and went troublingly still as he looked down. Approaching cautiously, Daryl felt unease take a hold of him; it wouldn't be Hershel or Otis, because they had keys. It could be Len or Javier, finally returned to explain themselves, but somehow, Daryl doubted it.

Shawn went down the stairs after his sister. "What's going on?" His question was followed by some more murmurs, introductions, he guessed.

Picking up the pace, but unwillingly to be spotted by just anyone, Daryl hung back, peaking down the stairs just enough to see who was there. Beth stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame for support; bare feet had her up on tiptoes, she looked anxiously at the people in the doorway.

With a familiar, unpleasant wrench in his stomach, Daryl recognized the uniforms. Cops. Two of them. A tall, good-looking guy with dark hair and a small, brunette woman with a scrutinizing glare. "We don't have photos yet. The body we found… Hispanic male, looks to be in his mid-thirties, athletic build; he was wearing jeans, a grey flannel shirt, and work-boots caked in mud and manure."

"That could definitely be Javier," said Beth, gravely. Her voice didn't shake, though Daryl noticed her knuckles going pale and tense against the door. "He's been missing since yesterday, along with one of our other farmhands, Len. They never showed up for the nightwatch."

"These guys got last names?" asked the woman, raising an eyebrow at Beth.

"I'm not sure what they are," Beth confessed, "Just a second, let me go into my dad's study, I can find out…" she turned out of the doorway and moved to walk into the other room. She caught Daryl's eye briefly, looking earnest and pale, her blue eyes wide with worry.

"What happened to Javier?" Shawn took his sister's place, crossing his arms and straightening his back as he faced the officers.

The two officers exchanged looks. "We really can't discuss that," said the woman sharply.

"We don't know if it's him," the man added.

"There are feral dogs running around. They came to the farm last night and animal control was able to round up most of them, but they're pretty vicious. They savaged one of our other farmhands yesterday."

"Well, don't you folks just have all the luck," the woman muttered.

"We're certain that whoever it is, he was murdered. By a person, not an animal," said the male officer, shooting his companion a warning glance.

In a moment, Daryl realized that he recognized that authoritative voice. This was the douche who tried to get him to retreat and leave Penny in the woods the night she went missing, Officer Pete. The girl cop was new, in radiated off of her in great waves of inexperience. He didn't remember a single female officer being at the farm that night, so it was possible she was quite new, and in training.

Beth returned a moment later with a piece of paper that she'd scribbled a few lines of key information on. "Here—their names and the contact information that they gave us."

"That stuff is probably bogus," Shawn shrugged.

"What makes you say that?" the female officer frowned.

Shawn just shook his head.

"Some of the men who come here… they just don't give that stuff away," Beth explained cautiously. "Half the time, when we look into it, it's just a jumble of numbers and some made-up names."

Understanding them perfectly, Officer Pete nodded, "Thank you," he said, interrupting his young partner as she started to open her mouth. "Do you know anything about Javier, or his associates?"

"No, not really," Beth confessed, "We don't really ask those questions. He's only been here a short time. Maybe Daryl—" she stopped herself short as she glanced up the stairs to where Daryl was watching them. "Come on down here a minute?" she asked.

He'd been afraid she'd do that, but he forced himself to walk heavily down the stairs. She was right to call on him. It was better to just answer all their questions now, in the hopes that they wouldn't be back.

He must have been hiding pretty successfully at the top of the stairs, because both officers looked up sharply when he appeared. Officer Pete's face broke and brightened with recognition, "Daryl Dixon. Never did get to actually meet you last time."

Lightly, he slapped his companion's arm, a little smile quirking his face. "This is the guy who found that little girl."

"Oh," she looked him up and down, dark eyes trying not to give away what she was thinking.

"Officer Pete," he stuck out his hand for Daryl to shake, "And this is my new partner, Officer Tara."

Daryl gripped each of their hands, nodding and then stuffing his own hands in his pockets. "I heard all that," he muttered, "I don't really know nothin' about Javier. Didn't speak the same language, literally. He was friendly, though. I think he used to go with the other guys to get lit a couple of nights a week," he shrugged, "Aside from that, I don't know where he went or what he did."

"You didn't go with them?" Tara asked him, eyes still inspecting him, though she managed to sound impassive.

"Nah," Daryl shrugged.

"So uh… what were you all doing last night? Between the hours of five and seven o'clock?" Tara not so subtly moved into asking for an alibi.

Daryl smirked as he noticed Pete's dead-stare. The man was clearly using everything he had not to roll his eyes at his partner's lack-of-subtlety. The smile slid right off Daryl's face as he thought back to the hours of five to seven the night before and realized that Beth was his alibi.

"I was on the road, alone. Came down from school, I arrived here about nine," Shawn shot his sister a look.

"Uh," Beth's voice went quiet, "I was here, at the house," she said in a would-be casual voice.

"Can anyone confirm that?" Tara asked.

Curling his lips into his mouth, Daryl raised one hand, fingering collapsing into a fist.

"Oh. Okay." Tara furrowed her brow at them pair of them.

"Alright," Officer Pete nodded, face a little red, though he tried to hide any embarrassment he felt on their behalf with a short cough, "We'll leave you folks alone now, but first, could you tell me about this other farmhand? The one who got savaged?"

"It's on there," Beth gestured to the paper in his hand. She'd already thought of that. "He's in the hospital, I wrote down his name and his room number if you gotta talk to him too."

"Thanks," Pete offered her what Daryl guessed was probably a rare smile. "Give us a call if you think of anything, and you make sure and tell us if that other farmhand who went missing, Len, comes back. We'll let you know when we discover the identity of our John Doe."

"Yeah. Please call us," said Beth stepping outside to see them off the property.

Daryl and Shawn watched Beth walk barefoot out the cruiser to see them off. She was nodding a lot, but didn't seem nervous at all, aside from that. It made sense, Daryl decided, she was well-acclimated to the presence of cops by now.

Out of nowhere Shawn slugged Daryl hard in the arm. "Sorry." He said immediately as Daryl groaned. "But you should know, I'm gonna be doing that from time to time." He slapped him on the back and retreated a little further into the house.

"Only a matter of time before I start hittin' ya back," Daryl warned him.

The light mood dissipated in seconds. "What do you think happened?"

"I ain't a cop," muttered Daryl, "It ain't my job to figure it out."

The cruiser left the farm and Beth walked lightly back up to the porch, freshly showered feet all muddy again. "What do you think happened?" she chewed on her lip as she faced them.

Glancing briefly at the indignant expression on Shawn's face, Daryl said gravely, "If I had to guess, I'd say Len offed Javier and ran for it. He comes back here, we oughta call our friend Officer Pete and his trainee."

"How come you answer her—" Shawn started but cut himself off, red-faced and with lips twitching. "Alright, whatever, man," he sighed, "Why do you think that?"

Daryl shrugged, "I dunno. Just a gut feeling. It makes sense. Len kinda has that vibe, and he vanishes right as Javier turns up dead?"

"Maybe it's not…" but Beth trailed off, shaking her head. Somehow, they all knew that the body the cops had found would be Javier.

"They say where they found him?"

"The woods," Beth admitted, "Just over the boarder of our property."

"Okay, but _why_ would Len kill him? What's he got to gain from that?"

"You'd have to ask him," shrugged Daryl. "Don't though. Like I said, Len shows up again… Lock the doors. Call the cops." Daryl never thought he'd hear himself say that.

* * *

**So much love, AL**

**Running Up That Hill - Placebo**


	29. Get Well Soon

**Oh my loves:) It's good to be posting!**

**Item of business: I've gotten some similar requests... more or less brazen, but always quite charming and they tend to leave me very giggly, but anyway... apparently there is a collective question on some minds that in my ****naiveté I have failed to address. Typical me. So, to answer this question for all who may be asking it... I do not write smut. Don't misunderstand, if I have anything against smut it's resentment that some people are just freakin' talented at it, and I'm jealous. **

**That having been said, "no smut" doesn't mean "no sex scenes" or alternatively "no love scenes." I do write those and I will write those in this story.**

**BIG THANKS to everyone who's following, HIYA to new people! Also, so many thanks to favoriting-friends, and you wonderful people who recommend this fic. **

* * *

When Beth pulled into the hospital parking lot and shut off the engine, she looked up just in time to see Officers Pete and Tara getting into their cruiser two rows away. They didn't see her, but she watched them; she watched their lips move and the grave expressions on their faces. A little town like this meant a tight, generally boring community, she imagined that they weren't as accustomed to homicide.

"The cops just left," Lou said the second she walked into his room; he was sharing with another patient, who looked thoroughly annoyed. This was probably because Lou was leaning up against the window, in an unsuccessful attempt to try and make the smoke from his cigarette drift outside the hospital.

"Yeah, I know," said Beth, glancing down the hallway, "There are a couple of nurses nearby," she warned.

"Put that fool thing out," ordered Lou's roommate, a stern look on his face. He was probably in his sixties with white hair, a long nose and intense, earnest eyes. He looked strong and healthy for his age, like her father. His reason for being in the hospital was apparent; a solid white cast was on one leg.

"Hey—ya might be indulgin' in a vice as well, if you'd just had to look at what I just had to look at," Lou shook himself. Beth had noticed the moment she saw him that he was pale, but she just chalked it up to his blood-loss from earlier, though now that she looked closer she see that the hand holding the cigarette was shaking and his wide-open eyes were hyperaware. In spite of the fact that he'd still been mangled and bloody when she left him last night, he hadn't looked this bad.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, taking another moment to look him over. "So, they asked about the body?"

"About Javier," Lou nodded, taking one last drag before he finally put out the cigarette, evidently unable to withstand much more of his fellow patient's wide-eyed accusing glare. "They showed me pictures to have me confirm that it was him."

Beth frowned at that, "So, it's definitely him?"

"Oh yeah. It's him," Lou shook himself. "It's just weird. One minute, you're talking to a guy—then he's just gone?"

"Poor Javier," Beth pulled up a chair between the two beds and sat down.

Lou's mangled arm was bandaged tight. They'd had to stitch him up, but she hadn't stuck around long enough to see any of that.

"How're you feeling?" she knitted her brow, glancing at the IV bag to see what they were putting in him.

"I _was_ fine, 'till I had to see," he swallowed, "It wasn't even gruesome or nothing, just all kinds of uneasy… looking at a face with crazy, dead-man eyes. Ya can see there ain't nothing inside anymore. All kinds of uneasy."

"They came to ask us, but they didn't have pictures yet… They didn't confirm it was him."

"I reckon they already knew." Lou revealed, "Javier and Len met the local authorities on a few occasions in town. It would really surprise me if all the officers didn't rush on down to see the body, and if _one_ of them didn't recognize him…" he trailed off.

Beth nodded along, following him and chewing on her lip, "Then why did they lie to us?"

"My guess is they suspect your—they might suspect Daryl."

"Why?" Beth felt the blood drain out of her face. She knew for certain he'd been with her at the time that Javier died and she had faith they wouldn't accuse him wrongly, but still, it made her very nervous to hear Lou even suggest it. She glanced over at his roommate.

The other patient had been watching them talk with rapt attention. He grimaced apologetically, "Sorry. I'd leave but…" he motioned to his busted-up leg.

He seemed harmless enough, but she glanced back at Lou for a confirmation.

"Dale's alright," Lou shrugged, hand still shaking violently and twitching towards the jacket on the chair next to him, where she suspected a pack of cigarettes hid.

"Dale Horvath," the other patient introduced himself.

Beth shrugged, "It doesn't matter, I guess. I don't think either of us know anythin'." She turned back to Lou, "But Daryl didn't have anything to do with it," she said firmly.

Lou paled even worse. "Ya sure about that, missy?" he dared to murmur.

"Of course, I'm sure," said Beth fiercely, with a quick self-conscious glance at Dale. "Daryl's not a murderer. Besides, I was with him all evening."

"Every second?"

"We made dinner and stayed up at the house. It was rainin' like crazy so neither of us went anywhere."

"Well, not to push my luck—but I'm not as willin' to believe that Daryl ain't capable of… lethal violence. But I'll take your word for it that he wasn't in the vicinity when someone choked the life outta Javier." Lou flicked at his IV bag impatiently.

Feeling defensive on behalf of Daryl, her fingers curled into the edge of the bed. "He's a good man. He wouldn't do that."

"You weren't there when he pummeled Dave. I was," Lou reminded her.

"That was different."

For a few moments they each left the other to think about their final words, both of them tense, though for very different reasons. Lou was still a nervous wreck, while Beth felt her temper sparking. She tried not to take what Lou said too personally. He was drugged and had been through a lot. He was bound to be a little more loose-lipped than was good for him. All the same, she felt a swelling in the back of her throat. She couldn't think of a civil way to defend Daryl's character, so instead she took a deep breath and tried to back off.

It was Dale who finally broke the silence, apparently sensitive to the fact that someone needed to relieve this tension. "Well," he said with little huff of laughter, "This is better than TV."

Secretly grateful that he'd dispatched the edgy hush, Beth barely managed a little smile before she cleared her throat and figured she ought to try and say something to defend them, "Whatever you're imaging is probably a lot more excitin' than what's really going on," she told Dale.

No one was buying it; she resisted the urge to groan, given a sideways glance was enough to tell her that Lou was shaking his head at Dale to contradict what she had said.

"So, who do you think is good for it, then? If it ain't your boyfriend?" Lou's words were a little muffled. He contented himself to just suck on an unlit cigarette, in desperation.

"I dunno," Beth lied, raising her shoulders. "But you gotta stop even mentioning Daryl in the same sentence as this. If he was gonna kill someone…" she trailed off, wishing she hadn't blurted out that last part. She'd meant to stay true to her 'not a murderer' stance. It was true, Daryl was a gentler soul than anyone gave him credit for, and she didn't _like_ thinking about it, but if they were going to make her…

"…He'd have killed Dave," Lou finished her thought for her, his teeth still rolling over the cigarette, eyes strangely steady.

She shrugged again, "I don't think it's even fair to say that," she murmured quietly, "If he was gonna do it, he'd have done it. He didn't. He let him get away."

"Sort of," Lou snorted.

About fed up with this, Beth decided that her obligations were just about fulfilled. Lou seemed fine and well on the way to recovery. She didn't want to sit here listening to him go on about the fact that the first person who came to mind when there was a murder lurking nearby was Daryl. "You've got my number if you need anything," she stood up and started out the door.

"Daryl hunts with a crossbow, doesn't he? Police asked about it, and I said that yeah, he did, but I don't know what kind of shot he is."

She was almost out the door when Lou threw that question at her. Turning back, she took note of his frozen demeanor and said "Yeah," in a toneless voice.

Lou nodded. "That's interesting. It's an interesting weapon."

"Why?" She shook her head, honestly baffled, "It's not even relevant. You said Javier was strangled."

"He was," Lou nodded, "After he got shot. Missed the heart."

Glaring openly now, Beth crossed her arms and faced him squarely. "Daryl wouldn't miss." She turned on her heel and marched out.

It took her until she stepped off the curb and the crisp early-evening air filled her lungs that she felt like maybe she was overreacting. She felt a shiver down her spine and her heart raced. She could taste bile in the back of her throat. Why had she let what Lou said get to her? He was drugged-up and what did he know about any of it anyway?

Besides, she knew better, didn't she?

Taking a moment to settle into the driver seat, Beth glanced at her own reflection in the rear-view, eyes sharp and piercing back at her; accusing.

_Think he could kill someone?_

In a few more seconds of staring down her own icy reflection she felt guilt slither in and she had to look away. Of course, she knew Daryl hadn't killed Javier. She'd been with him the whole time. As far as she knew Javier had never given Daryl a reason to dislike him, let alone kill him. Knowing he hadn't wasn't helping her to feel any better. Slowly she let her arms rest on the top of the steering wheel and her head bow.

For a moment, she'd been scared, because she knew that there was some truth sprinkled into Lou's tripped-out musings.

She could confidently assert that Daryl hadn't killed Javier.

However, she could not admit that he wasn't capable of something like that. It hit her like a sudden gust of wind. He would never kill anyone for no good reason, but… if he _did_ have a good reason.

Of course the police would have to consider it.

Pete and Tara had seemed friendly enough when they spoke to them at the house, but looking back, it wouldn't surprise her at all to learn that something more was going through their minds. Then they'd talk to Lou. Audibly, she groaned into the steering wheel.

She shook herself and buckled up. It didn't matter, she assured herself mentally.

_It doesn't. They'll look for evidence and they won't find any, because he didn't do it, and that's what really matters._

The drive home afforded her enough time to go back and forth on what she ought to do next. It wasn't until she made it back inside the house, finding it empty, except for Mark, that she made her final decision.

There was no point in saying anything to Daryl about it.

It would just piss him off.

* * *

After the police had left, Daryl had thought to himself that he was too keyed up to sleep. This thought had promptly been washed away by total darkness; he couldn't remember what followed clearly. There was a vague sense of holding a restless blonde in his arms and then he woke up alone in Beth's bed, sweating through her tangled mess of sheets.

It was sunset.

He put his dirty clothes back on, leaving the ones that Beth had given him with the laundry. Shawn was still fast asleep, so he left the farmhouse alone and silent. Beth was nowhere to be seen, but she'd said that she would be going to the hospital to check on Lou at some point. Sure enough, when he got outside her car was gone. He walked to his truck, opened the cab door and then remembered that his crossbow was in the back. He shut the door and walked around to get it.

For a moment he paused, looking at the contents of the bed of his truck. In a container he had stored the usual gear: gas & oil, bungeed to the side, jump-cables, first-aid kit, some water and a tarp to keep it all covered. He usually locked his crossbow in the cab—didn't feel right about leaving it out in the open. Last night, he'd been in such a hurry because of the rain, and distracted by the prospect of meeting Beth that he'd merely hidden it under the tarp as well. The whole scene looked a little mussed.

At first he told himself that it might have just been the rain. Grimly, he frowned as he remembered the police who'd paid them a visit earlier. They might have looked through his stuff before they came up to the house. That seemed like law enforcement for you.

He watched the farm get dark, making tracks around the outer extremities of Hershel's land. He knew that Beth was right—they couldn't just assume that the pack was gone, but even after the trouble the night before, Daryl couldn't help but feel that the place was beyond peaceful. Nothing stalked them tonight.

No sooner had he indulged in this thought than he took note of hairs standing up on the back of his neck. Approaching footfalls drew his gaze around. It was only Shawn.

The boy was still a ways off, jogging with heavy steps. "You didn't wake me up," he yawned as he got close enough for shouting distance. "And you left this," he added, raising the beanbag gun.

In reply, Daryl lifted his crossbow so that Shawn could see it.

The boy's eyes got wide as he slowed to a halt right beside him. "Uh… you gonna shoot some dogs, Daryl?" he asked warily.

"I wasn't actually thinkin' of dogs," muttered Daryl.

"…right." Any humor that Shawn might have tried to own died inside his haunted eyes. "I'm not so sure nightwatch is such a good idea, what with there's a murderer hanging around and all."

It was better than pretending like everything was okay and trying to sleep.

They marched around the perimeter in silence for a while. Shawn had a tendency to whistle under his breath, but it didn't bother Daryl at all. Merle did the same thing sometimes, when he was in a mood.

"I uh… I got this friend in medical school," Shawn started tentatively, like he still wasn't so sure that talking with Daryl was such a healthy activity to engage in. "She just got married," he snorted, "Who gets married their first year of medical school? Anyway, I went to her bridal shower. I don't think I was supposed to be there, but whatever—there was free food, so I found myself in the area."

Baffled, Daryl actually stopped walking and looked at Shawn instead, curious where he was going with this little diatribe.

"Anyway, my friend tells the story of how she first met her guy and all the girls are being ridiculous and… ya know, like girls," he rolled his eyes, "And then the maid of honor reads this letter that the groom wrote, talking about how they first met." He let out a short bark of laughter, "It's like a completely different story. She says it was raining, he says it was sunny. She says they were with a bunch of friends and he says they were alone. I swear—it was like he was thinking about a totally different girl. I thought maybe my friend was gonna be pissed, but instead she just starts laughing—and so do all the others. Just laughin' 'till tears are streaming down their faces, messing up their makeup, and I'm just over there, eating all the cake and looking like a confused idiot. The only one in the room who ain't bent over laughing."

"What's your point?"

"…Just, got me thinking about the differences between men and women. You and my sister are about as different as two people can be. After listening to her talk about how ya met and all… I guess I just want to know your version of events." He couldn't quite manage to meet his eyes, though he did glance at him side-ways, sizing him up, "'Cause, I think, she thinks this is one thing. Maybe you think it's something else. I _heard_ you last night, you don't gotta repeat yourself. Just be honest with me. What did you think when you first saw her—reasonable censorship is allowed," he added the last part rapidly, shooting Daryl a warning glance.

Part of him wanted to tell Shawn to go to hell, but he was starting to learn. Beth, Hershel and Rick had all tried to crack him open and get him to talk. He was trying not to get too mad about it. "I thought… she's young, pretty, seemed sweet and smart too; it wasn't until later that I thought she was too good for me. At first… never even crossed my mind. Too obvious that she was. I didn't even need to think it." He glared at the ground, resenting Shawn for asking these kinds of questions; he still felt like that sometimes, no matter how many times Beth reassured him. "I thought she shouldn't be there. She didn't want to be there. I didn't blame her. I didn't want to be there either." Daryl scratched nervously at the back of his neck. "I wondered why she didn't just _leave_. What she was doing wastin' her time down in the dirt with the likes of us."

"When did you change your mind?"

"What do you mean?" he mumbled back.

"I mean, when did you decide it was okay to be with her?"

In all honesty, he wasn't sure he'd experienced that moment yet. It sounded like a big deal, something he'd notice coming right at him, shrieking like a missile maybe.

If it ever did happen, he'd know. As of right now, he wasn't sure it would ever be okay.

"I decided _I would_…" he trailed off a moment, trying to ignore Shawn's peculiar twitch, trying to read Daryl, but he didn't have his sister's gifts. "It really wasn't 'til after all that with Penny... Before that, I kinda thought maybe I was just imagining things on her side. When I realized I wasn't, I tried to stay away, but she wouldn't have it."

"Didn't try that hard," Shawn accused him in a mutter.

Daryl let out a ragged sigh and started to walk along the border again. In a moment Shawn caught up with him.

"What are you smirking at?" Shawn glared at Daryl.

He didn't know why, at first. It wasn't typical for him, but he could feel what Shawn was talking about, slowly taking over his face. It wasn't much of a smirk, just a little twitch at the corner of his mouth. He could only feel guilty for so many hours of the day. When Hershel and Annette came home, the twisting in his gut might start all over again, but at least for now it was like something far away that he could ignore. Maybe it was due to the exhaustion, or maybe it was just conditioning; after having to take Shawn's jabs here and there he was getting used to it. "Yeah, yeah, I'm a dick." He muttered. "Coulda run off to Tibet; I s'pose that would solve the problem… us bein' on opposite sides of the globe and all."

Shawn didn't have a retort for that. He just continued to glare at Daryl as they marched the border, face growing steadily redder.

For a while they managed their way through the winding border of the farm, passing close by the most vulnerable parts and slowing down to make an assessment of the grounds. They listened to the cicadas and crickets, and even managed to talk about some normal, more comfortable subjects; the new fence and the trouble that the flooding had caused came up, but mostly they stayed silent, except for Shawn's occasional whistling.

At midnight a slight, ghostly figure approached them from the house. Daryl saw her coming, had watched for her from the moment he noticed the lights in the windows go out in the distance. It took her several minutes to walk out to meet them. Wordlessly, she took the beanbag gun from her brother, not looking at Daryl yet. She gave Shawn a tight smile and hugged him briefly, "My turn. Go sleep," she suggested.

"I ain't tired anymore," but he yawned widely.

Beth just shook her head.

With a sigh, Shawn didn't bother to fight with her any longer. He stumbled in the direction of the farmhouse, rolling his shoulders and stretching out his neck.

It seemed like an eternity before Beth looked at him.

A sinking feeling in his gut told him that something was wrong.

She tried to hide it, once her eyes did meet his there was the usual light and laughter in them, but something more lurked there. Hesitancy had a hold on her. She was worried about something. He could barely see her lip trembling where she chewed on it from the inside. "I missed you," she breathed, taking a hold of his jacket with her free hand. She pulled herself up to purse her lips against his.

Every time she got close to him, showed him some affection or gave away her desire it took him by surprise. Maybe he would never get used to it. His stomach still did a little flip, his palms still started to shake and sweat, but he didn't waste a second on nervousness any longer. Instead he took her by the narrowest part of her waist and pressed himself up against her, relishing the feel of her. It even drove away his observations for a moment; he forgot about that worry that had flickered in her eyes.

But, only for a second. Then a small voice came to him and warned him that she'd been hoping for that; she didn't want him to notice.

"Everythin' alright?" he pulled back just enough to turn his head and look down at her sharp blue eyes.

"Mmhmm," if he hadn't known better he might have bought it. She propped the beanbag gun against her knee and slid her arms inside his jacket, her hands felt their way up his back, stroking across his spine and up as high as she could go, squeezing him in tight pulses. Her face was hidden under his jacket.

It made him edgy, knowing that she had a secret. She'd never before kept something from him that was bothering her. Before now, he would have had a tough time imagining her lying to him… then again, he knew for certain that she lied to people she cared about. She had her reasons. Did she have a good reason to keep something from him now?

He didn't like it, but he knew he definitely did not want to be the sort of man who called her out. He took a hold of either side of his jacket and wrapped them across her back and over the fall of her blonde hair.

He would just have to trust her. Even when it hurt.

* * *

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**When The Sky Pours Down Like A Fountain - Hammock**


	30. Oh

"But _why_ didn't you call?" Annette sat down at the kitchen table, sighing into her hands.

Beth echoed her exasperation, and let her head tip over the back of her chair.

Her mother was trying to keep her voice down. Hershel had finally gone to unpack, but if he heard them talking there was always the chance that he'd come back and the whole disaster would start all over again. It was going to take some serious, and chocolate-related apologizing for her to forgive Shawn for deciding to leave _before_ their parents got home. He said he didn't think he could face them knowing about Beth and Daryl and not say anything. She could appreciate that, but it did little to lessen her resentment of having to deal with their disappointment and anger _alone._

"There wasn't anything _I_ or anyone else could do about it," Beth repeated for round about the tenth time since her parents came home. "I didn't want to ruin your weekend for no reason."

"No reason?! Javier is _dead_." Her mother had a point. She lowered her hands, shaking her head at her daughter, "I know we left you in charge, but it was with the understanding that you _knew_ at what point you shouldn't be handling things all on your own."

"It wouldn't have changed anything if you came back early, except that you woulda been around to be all stressed out too—" Beth cut herself off before she added '_and driving me crazy._'

"I understand, about not calling just because two farm hands don't turn up for their shift, that woulda been an overreaction. When Lou got hurt—I think _that's_ when you crossed the line. Once the dogs were here, threatening the animals—"

"There was no time to call you then," said Beth firmly, "We were too busy taking care of it, and once it was over—it was over. What woulda been the point in bothering you, maybe making you miss the wedding, 'cause daddy was already feeling conflicted about going in the first place? Why? So you could come here when it was all over—"

Her mother cut her off with a sharp intake of breath. For a moment it looked like she might shout, then she let out a slow exhale, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, she looked calm, but exhausted. Her eyes were set inside dark circles, her wrinkles more apparent than Beth had ever seen them. "Then someone was murdered. Someone lost their life just outside of our property."

That shut Beth up, because she was starting to see it from her mother's perspective. She'd been fighting it, but the truth was… her folks had a good reason to be mad at her.

"Here's why I'm worried, Beth. I know that _you know_ that you shoulda called. You're a smart girl. Something's been going on with ya recently, and I don't know how this is related, but… I'm worried." Her pale eyes pried into Beth's with more intensity than she could ever remember. She felt herself turning to stone under that gaze. "Anything you wanna tell me?"

The phone rang.

Without missing a beat, Beth was on her feet. She'd snatched the phone off the hook to answer it. "Hello?"

At her back, she heard her mother sigh and the squeal of the chair as she got up from the table.

"Hello? Beth Greene?" a vaguely familiar voice asked.

"Yeah, that's me." She glanced back at the table where she'd left her mother.

Annette was gone.

"This is Dale Horvath, do you remember me from the hospital?"

Beth blinked, feeling her brow dip. Lou's roommate? "Yeah, I remember you. How's your leg?"

"It'll be fine. They're letting me leave, so…" he trailed off a moment, clearing his throat. "I looked up your number. Hope it's alright that I'm contacting you. It's just… I'm calling because Lou checked out a few hours ago, and I thought you and your family might want to know a few things." His voice was restrained, like he was conflicted about something, thinking twice about the call already. "It's none of my business. Probably, I oughta stay out of it, but I just wouldn't feel right skipping town without saying something."

"It's okay. If you think it's important, I wanna know," she tried to put him at ease. His anxiety was apparent. "What's wrong?"

"He said some other things to the police, about your… about the other hand."

"Daryl?"

"Yeah. He told the cops that Daryl had come to the farm with the express purpose of robbing your family."

Beth laughed out-loud at that. It was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears. Ever since talking to Lou the day before, she'd tried hard to ignore a sinking feeling. Javier had been shot, and Lou had implied that the wound was noticeably from an arrow rather than a bullet. Lots of hunters used bows, but Daryl was the only one she knew who was anywhere near the farm. The cops knew too. They'd seen his bow when he found Penny. They had to be thinking about it.

"I don't know Daryl at all," Dale added quickly before she could form a response. "So, I'd never try and pass judgment on him, but Lou… I _do_ feel like I got to know Lou pretty well over the last couple of days. He's involved in some heavy stuff. I think he might have been trying to deflect suspicion off of himself, at the very least."

Reading between Dale's words, Beth started to fell a little sweat break out on her neck, "You think Lou mighta killed Javier?"

"…I don't know. He seemed genuinely shaken when the cops showed him those pictures." He sounded doubtful, letting a sigh hit the receiver. "I _do_ think he knows a lot more than he's saying about what happened that night. I already talked to the cops, but it's probably too late. Just keep at eye out, in case he tries to come back for any reason."

For a moment Beth waited to see if he'd say anymore. What he'd said was already enough to send her reeling. "Thank you for calling. Really, I appreciate it. You're right, we need to know this."

"No trouble. You folks take care."

A click on the other line told Beth that'd he hung up before she could wrestle a goodbye free from her throat.

* * *

By Tuesday Beth was a wreck. She didn't let it show, tried to keep all her screaming inside her head. Since she wasn't sleeping so well she got up early and took extra care to make herself _look_ completely put together. Her usually somewhat mussed hair was smooth and pulled back. She did her makeup, picked out earrings, cleaned her room, reorganized her school binders and changed three times until she was satisfied that her outfit put forward the image of someone who wasn't struggling internally.

School didn't help anything. Specifically Minnie and Karen didn't help.

"Ya know, we have ways of making you talk," Karen threatened her with a raised pen. Somehow the orange neon ink didn't suggest imminent danger, so Beth simply smirked at her. It was a forced, somewhat annoyed smile. She'd worked hard to brush off their questions, but the stress was getting to her. It turned out they actually _did_ have ways of making her talk.

"We just want to know who he is, so we can tease you relentlessly about it," said Minnie sweetly.

The three of them were sitting out on the grass in front of the school. For the first time in a while, Beth didn't want to rush straight home now that classes were over. She kept finding herself glancing over at her car, reluctantly. With her parents watching her so closely, home was a tense place to be, and she couldn't risk any daylight hours with Daryl.

"We won't even steal him," Karen promised.

"Or handcuff you to his bedpost, or anything like that," Minnie added.

It wasn't funny, so she didn't bother to smile again. It had been weeks since Beth let it slip that there might be someone in her life to Minnie. Since then, she'd managed to get her friend to leave her alone for he most part; she achieved this through a combination of avoiding her when she seemed in the mood to bring it up and planting herself around other people so that in order to harass her, Minnie had to resort to text messages.

Such as: _THIS IS CHILDISH MISS!_ _Tell me everything and I'll forgive you._

Which were much easier to ignore. After a while, Minnie seemed to give up.

But on Monday, Minnie had told Karen, and it was like the whole thing started all over again.

She was an expert at talking her way around their probing questions. In some ways it was easier with two of them, because they tended to distract one another.

"Come on, this is starting to get suspicious," said Karen almost managing to darken her tone to sound serious, though the effect was somewhat negated but her smudged pink lipstick.

"Yeah," Minnie's eyes narrowed as if she hadn't thought of this before, "It _is_ suspicious, what's wrong with him?"

"You think I'd wanna be with him if there was something wrong with the man?" She could tell they were getting frustrated. She always kept her tone vague, her eyes square on theirs. They couldn't read her as long as she stayed in control.

"It's kind hard to say what you like," Karen observed, "I mean—you dated Jimmy, and a few others… but you always ditched them or y'all just drifted apart and it didn't really seem to bother you, so did ya even like them? Were they even your type?"

In response Beth shook her head, smoothing out her long braid over her shoulder, "I don't really believe in types—not for me, anyway—you've got a type," she raised her eyebrows at Karen, "Don't you?"

"Well I—" Karen went a little red. Most of the guys she dated did fit a sort of mold; they were all stocky and loud. They drove too fast and pissed her parents off. Karen cut herself off with a sigh.

"I'm not sure _that's_ even true for Karen," Minnie argued, "I think it's more like… we live in this little town and everyone's kinda the same?"

It wasn't a bad point and Beth had to give it to her with a thoughtful nod. "Good talk guys," she started to get to her feet, resigned to going home to face the music.

"Wait! Beth… you know, it's only a couple of weeks until prom," Minnie said in a sing-song voice, "And you promised." She added a little more sharply.

"I don't wanna go shopping with you guys if you're just going to keep picking at me," but Beth stopped walking, half tempted to further delay her return to the farm.

For a moment Minnie and Karen were both silent, looking at her, with four wide struggling eyes. They exchanged a glance and both conceded with arched shoulders. "We'll drop it for now, we swear," Minnie finally relented.

"Alright then," said Beth.

Her friends looked somewhat shocked that she'd agreed so quickly. She'd been avoiding them so much recently that for her to agree to go without any kind of a struggle left them a little bit stunned. Neither of them said anything as they loaded their bags into the back of Karen's jeep and started on their way.

She texted her mother to let her know she'd be back later. Chewing on the inside of her lip as she tried to imagine how the evening might go.

As rough as it was that her parents seemed to be backsliding as far as their trust in her went, and as irritated as she might get with her friends for trying to dig out her secret, none of it was really all that bad when compared to the whole situation with poor Javier. Everything would have been supportable if it wasn't for the homicide, and the fact that she was worried every minute that it might somehow lead the police back to Daryl.

* * *

"You finished already?" Annette called to Daryl, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand. In her other hand a pair of work-gloves flopped over like they were disappointed about not being needed.

"Just finished up now," Daryl confirmed with a nod, he took care while exiting the chicken coop not to let any of the birds escape. He'd just finished a few repairs and reinforcements on their homes. After the pack came, Hershel had been worried that the chickens might get traumatized and go into a molt. Just in case any more predators came back, they needed a nice strong coop to protect them.

"I was supposed to take care of that," Annette moved her hand away as a cloud drifted across the sky, blocking the suns rays, frowning apologetically.

"I ain't got any other plans." He shrugged. Unfortunately, it was true. Beth's parents had been watching her more closely since they returned. It had made it impossible for them to get together, except late at night.

He'd never seen Annette actually changed into work clothes and with the intention of getting dirty around the farm before. If he was looking for it, he could see traces of Shawn and Beth in her mannerisms, she looked somewhat disappointed and for a moment Daryl felt guilty about robbing her of her chore. She liked to be hands-on, just like her daughter. "Well, Patricia is making dinner, you oughta come back to the house."

"What?" Daryl thought he must have misunderstood her; he stiffened.

Annette gave a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder, "Just thought you might want to have dinner with the family, seeing as how you've been out here slaving away all day in the sun. I doubt you've missed that you and Otis are the only farmhands left?"

It was true that he'd had a lot more work to do over the past few days. They'd yet to find anyone to replace the other farmhands and now it was looking like Hershel might just not worry about it until harvest season.

"Come on—whatever Patricia's made, I'm sure it'll be delicious." It wasn't so much a request as an assumption that he was coming with her; Annette turned away, clearly expecting him to follow her. "Since you ain't got plans," she added and though he couldn't see her, he could tell she was smiling.

After a few more weary seconds, Daryl picked up the pace and soon fell into step beside the woman. It worried him sometimes, just how comfortable he was getting around the farm. He didn't just _like_ it here. He felt… safe. His mind had to say it in a whisper; it wasn't a concept that he had a great deal of experience with. His life had been a lot of things, but safe wasn't a place, it was a moment, sometimes. A moment that never lasted. He walked in tandem with Annette, eyes searching the farm around him as she went.

"Hyper-vigilance?" Annette had been peering at him the whole time, a half-smile on her lips.

"Hum?" he grumbled.

"I haven't seen you indoors much, but I get the feeling you're the kind of man who scans the exits, sits in the far corner with his back to the wall. Understand?"

Well enough. Daryl nodded.

"I'm not accusing. No need to look so nervous," Annette let out a chuckle, her smile widening momentarily. "I'm glad you were here to watch out for my daughter. Thanks for taking care of her."

"Nah, it was all her," grumbled Daryl. "I just took orders."

"All the same, I worry about her. It's nice to know she's got people around her who will support her even when we can't." Annette's smile faded slowly. Her eyes took him the distance and she swallowed before she spoke again, "Speak of the devil."

Sure enough, a jeep rolled to a stop in front of the farmhouse and a petite blonde bounced out of the passenger seat. It wasn't Beth's coupe and she was usually home a lot earlier than this. School would have gotten out hours ago, but with her parents' sharp eyes on her and their growing concern for her well-being, it wasn't too surprising that she'd stay away when she could.

As they got near the house, Daryl could make out Minnie and Karen were both with her. They pulled a large white garment-bag out of the back seat, the three of them hurrying into the house before Annette or Daryl were near enough to shout.

"Oh, I forgot about prom," Annette confessed. "She's barely even mentioned it… doesn't seem excited at all."

"Maybe it just ain't her thing."

This didn't offer much comfort to Annette, "At least she's going. I just know she'd regret not spending this time with her friends later."

He wouldn't argue with her, but Daryl couldn't relate to that sentiment at all. Most of the time, when Daryl thought about spending time with friends, it was something he regretted doing.

By the time they got to the house there was no sign of the girls, but Daryl could here them upstairs. Patricia poked her head out of the kitchen, "Hey Daryl, staying for dinner?"

"Sure is," Annette answered, "What about the girls?"

"They're not going to stick around," Patricia announced and Daryl thought she sounded happy about it, "They're just bullying Beth into showing off her dress before they take off—go bother their own families."

"Need any help in there?"

"No—just stay close by, we're gonna be starting soon. I already sent Otis to get Hershel." Patricia disappeared again, leaving Annette and Daryl alone, but not for long.

Bare feet appeared at the top of the stairs first, then a few folds of soft-looking yellow fabric. She had gathered the skirt up in one hand to better descend the staircase. She practically skipped down the first few steps, up on her toes, but her feet went flat against the middle step as her eyes fell on the living room and she saw Daryl.

Her eyes immediately got wide and flickered to her mother. She bit down on her lower lip to stop a nervous smile. He loved her in any color, but it was difficult not to decide on an immediate preference for this tangible pink in her cheeks; it looked especially stunning next to golden-yellow like her long hair, hanging in a braid over one shoulder.

The dress was simple and Beth looked like sunshine in it. Daryl didn't think he was capable of tearing his eyes away from her in that moment, buried deep, some voice was warning him about her mother's watchful eyes, but he stared anyway. Warmth wrapped around him.

"Oh, you look gorgeous!" Annette actually sounded surprised, but Daryl understood why a moment later. "I thought Minnie was picking out your dress?"

"I heard that!" Minnie called, "I've got _good taste_," she added defensively and before anyone could stop her, she stumbled down the stairs after Beth.

Beth seemed to realize the immediate danger, but was frozen; there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Minnie's mouth dropped open, she let out a single bark of laughter and then without missing another beat said, "The fuck are you doing here?!"

"Minnie—language," Annette snapped on reflex, but she hadn't misunderstood. She glanced over at Daryl, face immediately stone.

In contrast, Minnie's face went from scarlet to bone in the space between two heartbeats. She was bright enough to put it together in a few seconds, it seemed. Daryl met her eye but couldn't control his face, couldn't give her a warning or a pleading look to save his life; he didn't know what his reaction looked like, he just knew he couldn't look at Beth, because he was sure her face would be tragic.

Minnie opened and closed her mouth, managed a would-be casual shrug and said, "Uh—sorry, I was just surprised to see Daryl here. I met him… in town." She nodded, glancing up at the ceiling.

_Shit._ He'd hoped Lola was a better liar than that.

"Uh huh," Annette wasn't buying it.

"Okay, well, there, you saw," Beth tried to change the subject, smoothing out the front of the gown, "Not objectionable at all, is it?"

"You look very nice." Annette's face was still like a carved statue. Daryl couldn't read anything in her unblinking eyes, "I'm sure daddy will want to see it… but why don't you change for dinner? He'll just have to wait."

Beth's blush was deeper than ever as she nodded and slowly started back up the stairs. Minnie sprinted up the stairs, and Beth followed her, shoulders low and eyes averted from anywhere near Daryl's direction.

The air was thick with the kind of tension that, in Daryl's experience, usually led to violence. Annette was in the corner of his eye. He couldn't bring himself to look directly at her again, but he could sense that her regard was fixed on him, her hands gripping her hips.

He leaned forward on the couch, elbows resting on his knees to keep his leg from bouncing. His eyes flickered to the door. Maybe he ought to just make a run for it.

Holding his breath, and clenching his jaw, he tried to turn his head far enough that he couldn't make out Beth's mother, slowly drawing closer. He felt the couch give a little as she sat down next to him.

"Daryl, you gotta look at me, son." Her voice was mild, but firm.

Unwilling to risk whatever hesitation might cost him, he glanced over at her, keeping his neck bent and one lip folded into his mouth. "Yeah?" he finally grumbled after a few drawn out seconds of withstanding her prying stare.

"Where did you meet Minnie?" there was no accusation in her tone, but their was a great deal of weight. She had her own theories, maybe some of them were even worse than the truth.

He didn't want to lie. He couldn't say everything. "Some of her friends are my friends, s'all."

"Is that so?"

"Mmhmm."

She was still reading him, he could see it in the miniscule, frozen reflection of his worthless self in her eyes. "That's my daughter who just went up those stairs," her voice was barely more than a whisper. "My child. I can tell when something is wrong. When she's lying to me. When she feels like she needs to hide." Her eyebrows rose high and she scanned Daryl from the floor up, "And you… you're just easy." Her expression turned hurt a moment later, her mouth twisted and moisture appeared in her eyes. "How come Minnie knows what's going on, and I don't?"

There was no way of misinterpreting her tone, or the steel in her fixed, pale eyes. She'd sussed them out and for the first time, Daryl appreciated how inevitable it was. She was always going to figure it out.

"…If it makes ya feel any better, I think Minnie _just_ put it together," it was possibly a terrible thing to say, but Daryl couldn't bring himself to actually admit to anything yet, and those sharp eyes were tearing at him—demanding that he _say something_ to defend himself.

Annette didn't sound the least bit amused as she let out a stifled laugh. She shook her head, mouth becoming a line. She was going to kill him if he held her in suspense and she was going to kill him if he spilled.

Either way, he was dead.

"I know, ya gotta worry about her," he started, heart hammering as his head swam. Somehow, underneath all of this, he was beginning to understand what the hell was wrong with these people. "I've tried not to be a problem, you gotta believe me on that. I don't want…" he swallowed, taking in Annette's stony face again. "We met, before I came here." He wasn't sure that was the right thing to say, but he was panicking. Running for it was starting to look like the most logical option.

Annette finally blinked.

"She told me… said she wanted me here," he looked at the floor, face red-hot with shame.

The ticking of the clock seemed to slow in the silence that followed. The whole pretty little dollhouse house was eerily still. It was like the rest of them were eavesdropping, waiting at the keyhole for more secrets. Gradually, he felt Annette shift next to him.

When he finally found the guts to look her right in the face, he was struck with the similarities to her daughter. Her face had the same open quality; it was an intelligent thoughtful look.

Her expression softened ever so slightly as she read his features. "Oh."

* * *

**Aaaannnnnd, Annette knows. No walkers at the door this time, but isn't this the perfect moment for Hershel to walk in?**

**I sure hope so, because that's what's happening.**

**Make a Shadow - Meg Myers**


	31. Run

**APOLOGIZING IN ADVANCE FOR THE SUPER SHORT CHAPTER! I'm legit sorry my friends, but _this scene gets to be all by itself_ and it's not all that long... the good news is, I'm going to do my best to update at least one more time before the premiere, so with any luck the next chapter will not only be decent-length, it'll be up super soon! ...Shooting for Thursday, but I feel weird making promises...**

**BIG THANKS to all you rockstars who reviewed and sent me messages last week, I seriously love chatting with you guys about ****twd. Do feel totally free and most definitely inviting to ask any questions, make comments and criticisms, tell jokes etc. I love it. Also, thanks to everyone who's followed and favorited and recommended this fic, y'all light up my life:)**

* * *

"What… what…" Beth could hear Minnie hiss, though she could only see the back of her friend's head as she walked into the bedroom. As soon as Beth closed the bedroom door behind them, Minnie whirled around.

"WHAT?!" Minnie half-shouted through her teeth, staring in disbelief at her friend.

Beth opened her mouth, fully intending to defend herself and instead, all that came out was, "_Would you please keep your voice down?_"

Minnie shut her mouth and straightened up, but kept her eyes expectant on Beth. The two of them stared each other down for several seconds and then Karen cleared her throat.

Karen was sitting on the bed, cross-legged. She held something in her hands and watched the two of them with a peculiar expression; slowly, she raised the newspaper clipping. It was the one that Beth had pinned up on her wall, the article about Penny. "Daryl Dixon? That's the man who found Blake's daughter?" Unlike Minnie, Karen didn't seem shocked and was a lot better at keeping her voice low, "…He's not the guy from Nick's, is it? That dirty biker?"

"_He sure as monkeyballs is!_" said Minnie in undertone, "He's down stairs, right now—how long ago was this," Minnie snatched the article away, "Like a _month_—_six weeks_?! Are you kidding me, Greene?!"

Feeling hot through her face and neck, Beth turned around and haphazardly attempting to unzip her dress. Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the clasp.

"I got ya," Minnie sighed and unzipped the dress. "Just admit it, alright? He's your boy—_man_friend, ain't he?"

Her friends were uncharacteristically silent as she climbed out of the dress and took it over to her closet. After replacing the dress on its hanger and putting it away, she glanced back at them, and finally nodded.

She'd expected an explosion of ridiculousness. Her friends could typically be counted on for spontaneous twerking and screaming at the slightest provocation, but instead they both just looked at her. She might have told them she was from another dimension.

Giving them a few minutes to process, she yanked on a pair of jeans and then immediately grabbed the blouse that Daryl got for her, on the day they met.

"Holy hell. You're a_ rockstar_!" Karen finally blurted out.

"Her parents don't have any idea," said Minnie, eyes searching her from the ground up. Her expression was oddly guarded, her dark eyes harsh.

Karen, on the other hand, was gazing at her with unabashed admiration. "When did you get cool?"

"Karen…" Minnie grimaced.

"Seriously. You're my hero."

"Knock it off," begged Beth, "I'm lucky. He's great, and he's good to put up with all the bullshit we've got to deal with. It's not like I'm doing this because I've having a quarter-life crisis," Her hand smacked against her thigh, with a scoff she turned and fixed her shirt in the mirror. "I'm not with him for any of the reasons that either of you are thinking."

"You don't know what I'm thinking." Minnie narrowed her eyes at Beth.

"Why _are_ you with him?" Karen's color deepened a little.

Sometimes, being able to read the people around her was less than an enjoyable experience for Beth. Karen was grinning like the whole thing was a joke, a great story that she would gossip about, first chance she got; veneration and maybe a little shot of jealousy was clear in her voice.

Minnie's reaction surprised her. She looked worried.

"I really like him and he likes me. I'm happy when I'm with him, he feels the same way."

"Yeah, I bet it's that simple," said Karen skeptically.

"I honestly wish it could be." Beth groaned. Her hair was mussed from when she'd pulled the blouse over her head without unbuttoning it. She pulled the tie out of her hair and started to comb the braid out with her fingers. "I just want it to _not_ be anyone's business but ours. I want to be with him and I want that to be okay. He's a good man."

"Geez Beth, you think he's a saint? That's no fun… seems like a real sinner to me," Karen grinned.

"No wonder you didn't want to say anything—forget your quarter-life crisis—he's old enough for a mid-life crisis. Are you sure that's not what this is?" the wheels were turning in Minnie's head, and suddenly Beth felt the urgency to get her out of here. She'd already made things unstable enough, giving away to Annette that she knew Daryl outside the farm.

"I'll answer all your dumb questions, I promise—and _he's not having a mid-life crisis_—tomorrow, I'll talk all about it tomorrow—" she was cut off by a chirp from her phone.

Quickly, she snatched it up from the nightstand. It was a text from Maggie.

_You gotta call me._

It wasn't like Maggie to want to actually talk on the phone. Her older sister infinitely preferred texting. She had every intention of calling Maggie, the second things got sorted out. First, she needed to see how bad it was downstairs.

_Maybe mom didn't notice anything strange._ Even as she thought it, she knew it was wrong.

"You guys better go, I've gotta do damage control." She didn't fully understand the extent to which that statement was true until the three of them were back downstairs again.

Even Karen and Minnie, who were usually too wrapped up in themselves, picked up on the tension in the room and practically sprinted out the door. "I'll just give you a ride tomorrow, see ya!" Karen called without looking back. Minnie didn't say anything.

Annette and Daryl sat close beside one another on the couch, both of them leaning forward. Annette had her chin resting against the heel of one hand, looking up at Beth, still and all-pervading as a portrait. Daryl, on the other hand was a statute. His muscled profile was still as stone, his head was poised towards the ground. He barely looked up when she hit the bottom of the stairs. Swallowing, Beth only allowed herself a few seconds to try and determine what had gone on while she was upstairs.

It didn't even take that long. Her mother's expression was stranded, like she wanted to speak but for the rare instant, was unable to put the right words together. That, right next to Daryl's open shame told her the story as well as honest words could have.

"Mom." Her throat stopped for a few tense seconds as her heart thumped painfully against her ribs. She could already feel droplets of sweat forming at her hairline and on the back of her neck. From his stiff, flexed stance, she imagined that Daryl was on about the same comfort-level as she was, eyes unblinking, jaw clenched; he braced himself.

All three of them were full of words, Beth realized, but they'd been struck dumb by the same unseen force. She was the first one to overcome it, but only barely; "Okay?" she finally peeped out.

Slowly, Annette inclined her chin and gradually the movement turned into a tiny, nearly imperceptible jerk of the head, that might have been a nod. "Alright," but it didn't sound like she was really sure about that yet. "Your father just came back. He went straight into his office to make a phone-call before dinner." Annette didn't infuse the statements with any kind of suggestion, but there was a question lurking in between the words, when she dared to draw breath.

_Are you gonna tell him?_ It was a good question. Beth half wished that her mother would just come out and tell her what to do.

"Should I go see him?" she asked quietly.

"I dunno," Annette looked thoughtfully at her daughter, her shoulders dipping. She wrung her hands in her lap. "It's getting late."

There was a long silence in which she heard Otis laugh boisterously from the kitchen and Patricia's airy giggle followed after. For a moment their obliviousness was obnoxious, but then Beth felt it ease some of the tension, and she made her choice.

Her mother was right. This had already gone on for longer than it should have—all the sneaking around. Secrets weighed heavy in her chest. She wanted to thank her for not insisting on anything, for trusting her daughter to decide whether it was time to tell or not. But she could already feel that it _was_ getting late. They should have faced this sooner. If her mother knew, her father shouldn't be left in the dark. It just wasn't fair, at this point. All the same, she dreaded his knowing. At much as she loved him, and knew what a good, fair man he was, she was also well aware of his temper. He valued loyalty and if there was any way that temper saw this as a betrayal of loyalty, they would both be in deep.

"Tell Patricia I'm sorry, it'll just be another minute." Beth looked to Daryl before she left, just in case he would offer protest or encouragement. His eyes pinned her, but there was no suggestion in them. He had always left it up to her to decide. In addition to that acceptance, she sensed a longing. He wanted to be near her, didn't want to leave her alone when she was so clearly nervous, but she didn't think it would be such a good idea for him to come. She needed to talk to her father alone first. She just hoped he would listen.

"Daddy?" she knocked on the office door, but didn't wait for a reply before she opened it.

He glanced up, but was on the telephone. "Well, it's as you said, but forgive me for my skepticism. I'm afraid I'll need something more convincing than that…" A muffled voice on the other line replied before Hershel said, "Go right ahead, if that's what you've gotta do. We'll wait for the warrant… take care." He hung up the phone.

Beth gut twisted a little. Was he talking to the police? They'd called him twice in the last few days with questions to help with their investigation. Her father hadn't said a thing about what they'd told him, but if they'd contacted him _again_ and were threatening a warrant, it was getting serious. How likely was it that it didn't have anything to do with Daryl?

"Nothing to worry about," said Hershel kindly, when he saw her face. "Those boys are chasing a weak thread if you ask me. Are they getting anxious to her started in there?"

Beth gave herself the space of a heartbeat to reconsider, than shook her head, to herself and no one else. There would be time enough to ask about the details of what was happening later. She'd decided she was going to do this and that now was the time. Her mother hadn't exploded; maybe she could calm Hershel down. He liked Daryl. She just wasn't sure if he liked him enough for this.

Now Hershel looked concerned, his white eyebrows knit against her shaky regard, and she felt herself leaning back into the closed door at her back, using it to hold herself up. "Daddy. I've been lying. I've gotta come clean about something."

She'd had a long time to think about what she would say to him when the time came, but in the moment all her pretty words washed away and all that spilled out of her was truth and stuttering. Nothing else belonged in that room, where her father's eyes grew harder against her face, mouth wrinkling in disappointment. "Lying?"

"I met Daryl a week before he showed up on the farm." She wouldn't let herself look away from her dad's face and so she was forced to drink in every little moment of confusion.

His bright blue eyes shown first with surprise that gradually turned to hurt.

Still, she wouldn't look away. _I'm not ashamed. I just wish we didn't have to lie. _"I'm the reason he came here—I told him he should work here… because I wanted to get closer to him. And it worked." There was no way she would have ever been able to get through this without her face burning red at some point. "We've gotten close. Real close."

That devastating pain in his eyes hardened to anger as his eyebrows lowered even more. His upper lip curled a little; he clenched his teeth and quickly he moved toward the door. "Move aside, Beth. I need to have a word with him."

"Dad, _please_—" she caught his arm as he reached passed her to open the door.

But his expression was steel. He wasn't going to take her pleading into account, not tonight. He faced her down with one warning finger up in front of her lips. "_Then I'll have a word with you, but not before I take care of this_."

"No, but it's not—" she gasped as he slipped out of her grip, and had to practically sprint after him. "He didn't do anything wrong!"

Hershel came to a halt in the living room, Beth just behind him.

Daryl was already on his feet, hands in fists on either side of him, tense all through his muscled arms and bent back. Annette stood beside him holding onto one forearm as if to try and support him, but if Hershel noticed this, he paid her no mind, perhaps assuming that she didn't have the whole picture. "The day you came here, I explained a _rule_ that this farm and any other like it have always abided by." He paused to take in a little ragged breath that half turned into a sigh of exasperation. "There is a _reason_ we have to draw these lines, and this is the reason. I know you're well aware of this!" his voice rose a little.

"Daddy please—you don't—"

"I said I'll talk to you after," Hershel's voice cracked like a whip. "I thought you'd proved yourself to be a man of honor and so you were invited to live the higher law. I trusted you with my family. This is a mistake I won't be making again."

Annette looked like she desperately wanted to jump in, but something stayed her, instead she gripped Daryl's arm a little tighter, lending him strength, though it didn't look like it would be enough to keep him upright for much longer. Daryl was bent, cowering against Hershel's censure. He couldn't even look at him, couldn't seem to look at any of them, even as Beth kept her eyes glued to his face he staunchly refused to look up.

Hershel drew another hissing breath, chest heaving as his hand shook, "Go. I want you off my property." He gestured to the door with that same hand, trembling in anger.

Daryl didn't even hesitate, nor did he lift his head to meet Beth's eye and let her see even the smallest fraction of sorrow or an internal scream, or whatever else it might be that made him dig his own nails into his palms. He left like a dog, afraid the next kicked aimed at him would do real harm. Annette managed to grip his shoulder, but didn't do anything more to stop him as he bolted from their home.

Now it was her turn, but she wouldn't hear it. She shook her head from the moment Hershel turned to face her. Before he could open his mouth she weaved around him and closed the distance to the front door.

"Beth _stop_, we are going to talk about this," he hollered.

"Sure we are, daddy," Beth choked back a little emotion that fought hard to get free, even as she kept speaking, "We're gonna talk about it, but not tonight. I'm leaving too."

"Beth—" he mother started, but she stopped her with a look.

"You aren't—" Hershel seemed to realize as least a portion of his mistake, he softened his tone from the shout he'd been using, but he couldn't make her stay. Instead, it simply made it easier to cut him off, the way he'd done to her repeatedly in the last few minutes.

"I'm not Maggie," she declared sharply and shook her head at them.

That quieted her parents, as she'd hoped it would. She saw Hershel's stormy eyes widen a little, but his teeth were still bared behind trembling lips.

"I'm nothing like her. I'm not rebelling. I'm not confused. I'm leaving. Just for a little while." She stepped through the doorway, pausing for just a moment, but she didn't need anything. "You _need_ to let me go, just for a bit. I'll be back soon." She half-expected him to run after her from the expression on his face, but he didn't. As angry as her father might be, he knew she was an adult and he couldn't bodily drag her back into the house without hating himself. Her mother broke down crying. She heard but didn't see it, because she was afraid if she looked back and saw her face, it would make her stay.

She sprinted down the porch steps, flying in a b-line to where Daryl's truck was parked on the road.

He must have run for it himself, because the lights were already on, though the driver's side door still hung open.

Once she knew that he'd seen her, she sped up and ran as fast as her legs could carry her the last few dozen yards. He met her in the road, as she skidded to a halt right up against him. She barely got a look at his tortured, torn face before she slammed into his chest and felt his arms close around her. She drove him into the side of the truck with a thud. Daryl groaned, but then lifted her off the ground, tightening his embrace until it was nearly bruising force. "What are you doin', Beth?" he murmured right near her ear, his warm breath made her neck flush.

"Can I come with you? Just for a bit," her voice was still trembling. She hadn't cried yet, but she wasn't moving in the right direction to stop the flood.

"'Course ya can." He gave her one last good, lung-emptying squeeze before he set her down and got the passenger door of the truck for her.

The engine was already running. While she fumbled to buckle herself in, Daryl gave her one last look, as if to silently ask if she was sure about this. He put the truck into first gear and they began to leave the farm in the dust. Beth watched it disappear out the back window. Once her home was out of sight, she finally succumbed to tears.

* * *

**Yeah. Short. And slightly cliffy again, mostly sorry... slightly not... Next chapter will be up much sooner than normal, so I'm not going to feel too bad about it. ALSO! People have been asking about Merle and Maggie and their disappearance from the story I have very little to say in my defense, I for sure thought they'd make it back a lot sooner, but I got distracted by things. In any case, one hundred percent promising right now that Merle and Maggie will make a triumphant return in the next chapter.**

**Anyway...**

**BETH AND DARYL RAN AWAY TOGETHER! **

**...I had to do it. It was important.**

**Is anyone else having trouble keeping it together? I'm crawling out of my skin. I need season five yesterday.**

**Suburban War - Arcade Fire**


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